Hakeswill's Enemy
by Sgt. Hakeswill
Summary: Sharpe fans all know why Richard Sharpe hates Obadiah Hakeswill. But what was never told was how and why Obadiah came to hate Sharpe enough to single him out as a special target for more intense harassment and bullying than was given to the other men around him. This story explores the reason why.
1. Prologue

_**Author's note: **__As of March 2013, Bernard Cornwell has yet to write a book that covers the time when Richard Sharpe joined the army and first met Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill. _

_Starting with __**Sharpe's Tiger**__, Cornwell wrote in detail about why Sharpe hates Hakeswill. However, he has never explained how and why Obadiah came to hate Sharpe enough to single him out as a special target for more intense harassment and bullying than was given to the other men around him._

_I have written this story to explore my idea of what could have happened to cause Obadiah to hate Sharpe and how what happened was to shape the man that Obadiah was later to become. This story is told from Obadiah's point of view._

_I do not own the rights to the Sharpe universe and make no profit from this story. I am only borrowing Obadiah Hakeswill and Richard Sharpe, written by Bernard Cornwell and wonderfully brought to life by Pete Postlethwaite and Sean Bean._

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/_

**Prologue**

Life had never been easy for the nearly sixteen year old Richard Sharpe. He'd never known who his father was and his mother had been a whore who'd died when he was only three. Now approaching manhood, he had only the vaguest memory of her tucking him into bed at night.

Right after his mother's death, he'd been taken away and dumped into the Brewhouse Lane foundling home. Despite his tender age, no one there had shown him any tenderness or compassion. Indeed, he'd been expected to earn his keep from the very start. He'd spent the next nine years doing mountains of laundry and picking oakum, while enduring frequent beatings and never getting quite enough to eat or wear. Living by his wits, the orphaned boy survived by fighting, lying, and stealing. It would later turn out to have been a surprisingly apt training ground for his future life as an adult.

Not long after his twelfth birthday, young Richard was sold as an apprentice to a local chimney sweep. After half a dozen times of having to squeeze himself naked into filthy, narrow chimneys to clean them, the undersized boy knew he wanted no more of that. Determined to run away at the first opportunity, he escaped a little more than two weeks after leaving the orphanage, with no more than the clothes on his back.

He'd headed straight for the labyrinthine maze of narrow streets and alleys in the St. Giles Rookery where it would be difficult and time consuming for the chimney sweep to hunt him down. He knew the man wouldn't bother when it would be quicker and easier just to get another unfortunate orphan from Jem Hocking back on Brewhouse Lane.

Richard spent a couple of nights sleeping in different alleys, with nothing more to eat than the scraps he could scavenge out of dustbins. On the third morning, he awakened to the sight of a buxom, flame-haired woman, about ten years his senior, who'd brought out a box of rubbish to dump in the alley.

This had been Maggie Joyce, a whore who ran a gin house and brothel on Goslitt Yard. Taking pity on the scrawny, ragged boy, she gave him a place to stay, putting him to work doing whatever odd jobs needed doing around the establishment.

Maggie soon became the mother he'd never really had. After he'd proven his competence with the odd jobs she gave him, he graduated to burglary. Richard quickly became adept at his new trade, which was much easier and far more lucrative than trying to squeeze himself into chimneys.

And, as time passed and his body turned from that of a boy into a man, Maggie eventually became his first lover, thoroughly instructing him in the finer techniques of the sexual act.

For more than three years, life was good for Richard Sharpe. But it all came to an end one night when he'd returned from doing a burglary and found Maggie being beaten by one of her drunken customers. Richard had not hesitated for a moment - he'd picked up a heavy wooden stool to get the bastard off her and when it was all over, Maggie's attacker was crumpled in a bloody heap, dead at his feet.

That had been the first time he'd killed a man and had been obliged to run for his life. He wasn't running from the law, who would not have cared enough about the murder to investigate it. Young Sharpe wasn't worried about ending up being carted off to gaol; he was worried about being waylaid in an alley and being knifed or beaten to death himself. The drunken lout he'd killed had been the head of a powerful gang and if Richard had stayed with Maggie, it would have been only a matter of time before one of the lout's former henchmen took revenge on him for the murder.

Maggie had sent him to a friend of hers who ran a coaching tavern in Yorkshire, where he found work. But within six months, he was back in the same boat. This time, he had killed his employer, slashing his throat in a fight over a pretty, young barmaid. For as long as he lived, women would be Richard Sharpe's main weakness, clouding his better judgment every time.

This time, however, there were no more friends to go to. For the first time in his young life, Richard Sharpe was completely on his own to fend for himself and did not quite know what to do.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Though only twenty-three, Obadiah Hakeswill had been in the army for eleven years and had been a sergeant for the last five. This was his first year working with a recruitment party and the young sergeant found he had a knack for recruiting, easily able to gull naïve boys and desperate men into believing the tales he wove about the grand adventures they would have once they joined the army.

Like Richard Sharpe, Obadiah had been born a bastard and his childhood had been one of miserable poverty, also often spent lying, fighting, and stealing.

Unlike, Sharpe, however, he'd been raised by his mother in a small town in Sussex. Though Biddy Hakeswill hadn't been a prostitute like Lizzie Sharpe, she'd been free and easy with her favours, which was how Obadiah had been conceived. Biddy had toiled long, thankless hours as a laundress and managed, if just barely, to make a home for her only son. She doted on him as much as was possible, considering how little time she had to spare for him.

Despite being mostly neglected, he was smart enough to know that his mother had no other choice. He worshiped the ground she walked on. And she was the only one who loved him; the only one he could depend on.

Obadiah was not an attractive child; he was all knees and elbows with oddly prominent cheekbones and shifty eyes. Nor did he have the charm of a winning personality that might have otherwise caused townspeople to overlook his appearance and low origins. He did whatever he could to help her, which usually turned out to be stealing to supplement their income.

His mother had been able to send him to school for a few years, determined that he would learn to read and write, so that he might as an adult escape the grinding poverty in which they were obliged to live. But that had all ended when Biddy had become sick with consumption and could no longer work so much. Obadiah would have likely been soon thrown out of the school, anyway, because the vicar, who taught the class for indigent boys, disapproved of what he considered to be the immoral ways of both Hakeswills.

As Biddy's health rapidly declined, Obadiah had to devote all his time to stealing and taking care of his mother as best as a ten year old boy could. It wasn't until right before Biddy died that her brother came to grudgingly take charge of his young nephew.

She had made her brother promise to look after Obadiah after she was gone and it was only after he'd reluctantly agreed, that she'd been able to let go and die in peace.

Peter Hakeswill had kept his promise to his sister, but just barely. He kept a roof over his nephew's head, but mostly he ignored the boy, preferring to spend most of his time in a drunken haze down at the local pub. For much of the next year, Obadiah was pretty much left to his own devices, having to fend for himself.

As the months rolled by after Biddy's death, Obadiah got into trouble more and more often. But his uncle didn't care what he did, just so long as it didn't interfere with his nights down at the pub.

Few people in town had any use for the young Hakeswill, viewing him as a troublemaker and a nuisance. Most people were of the opinion that it would have been a better thing if he'd died and been buried along with his mother. Nevertheless, he had one friend who often accompanied him on his capers; oddly enough, the vicar's daughter. She was a year older than Obadiah, and was a rebellious girl who took great delight in assisting him with his stealing, knowing how much it would distress her pious parents.

It all came to an end one night after Obadiah had escorted her home after a successful raid on a chicken coop. The vicar had caught both children at the door, just as Obadiah had reached over to steal a kiss from the girl.

Knowing the young urchin's loose sense of morality and lack of a proper upbringing, the vicar suspected the worst; that Obadiah had compromised his daughter's honour. In the vicar's opinion, the orphaned boy had been nothing but a nuisance to the entire town since his mother's death. And trying to corrupt his innocent daughter was the last straw for the clergyman. Knowing that Peter Hakeswill would never take his nephew in hand, the vicar decided to solve the problem once and for all.

Because of his high standing in the town, no one questioned the vicar when he framed Obadiah for stealing a sheep. After the barest semblance of a trial, the unfortunate boy was sentenced to hang. Within days, he was hanged in the town square, along with several other condemned prisoners.

But luck was with Obadiah Hakeswill that day. As he hanged from the gibbet, twitching and struggling to breathe, a sudden downpour scattered the crowd. His uncle seized the opportunity to cut his nephew down and carried him to an secluded alley to try to revive him.

When he came to, he had an ugly wound around his neck that would turn into a permanent scar, and an uncontrollable facial twitch. But he was alive and that's all that mattered. It was at that moment that young Obadiah realized that he was a born survivor, and he lost his fear of death.

Knowing that they'd come looking for Obadiah once the rain stopped, Peter Hakeswill told the boy to bugger off and to never return. Taking his uncle's advice, twelve year old Obadiah ran for his life and never looked back.

When he reached the first large town, he ran into an army recruiting party and he joined as a drummer boy. In the time since, he had quickly made his way up the ladder to his present rank of sergeant. The army had almost literally saved his life.

By the time April 1793 rolled around, Obadiah had been in the army for nearly half his life. It was his home and, by now, army life fitted him like a well-worn glove. When his recruiting party entered the small market town of Sowerby Bridge in Yorkshire, the young sergeant had a feeling that this would be his most successful recruiting campaign yet.


	2. Recruitment Party

One month after running from the tavern in Skipton, Richard Sharpe cautiously entered Sowerby Bridge. In the last few weeks, he'd been very careful not to get caught, sleeping in barns by day, travelling by night, and stealing food wherever he could. It had been slow progress, and it was only now that he was beginning to feel that it was safe to show his face by day.

After four weeks on the run, Richard Sharpe knew one thing: something had to change and soon. He could not hide indefinitely; he was sure he'd end up starving to death if he had to carry on like this much longer.

As he made his way warily into the town, several wagons passed him, as well as more than the average amount of people on foot. Many of the wagons were filled with produce and other food items and most of the female pedestrians were carrying empty baskets and bags.

Watching the procession, he realized that it must be market day. He followed the people heading to market, knowing that he'd have a better chance of successfully stealing some food if there was a crowd to distract the vendors and which he could disappear into afterward.

As the vendors set up their booths and shoppers gathered, he wandered around aimlessly, his eyes following any pretty girls he saw, which helped him to forget about his troubles for a few minutes, at least.

He relaxed somewhat as he realized that no one in the crowd was paying any particular attention to him. Sharpe decided to spend the day here before moving on to put more distance between himself and the scene of his most recently committed murder.

He'd get himself as much food as he could possibly steal without getting caught, and would try to snaffle some clothing items as well, if an opportunity presented itself. As the young man walked amongst the booths, he looked down ruefully at his toes peeking out of the hole in one boot, so boots would be the first order of business. If he was going to continue to run, he'd need a better pair than what he had on.

It wasn't until Dick Sharpe had made several circuits of the market square that he was able to seize an opportunity to steal some food. And even then, he very nearly got caught when he quickly sneaked up to a vendor selling sausage when the man's back was momentarily turned. If it hadn't been for a fellow about his own age, in equally shabby clothing, distracting the vendor, young Sharpe was certain he would have been caught in the act. The lad had asked the vendor a question, just as he was about to turn back around, while Sharpe was in the middle of nabbing half a dozen sausages,

A few moments later, as he was about to slip into an alley to enjoy his ill-gotten gains, he nearly collided with his rescuer coming from the other direction.

Acknowledging him, Sharpe said, "Hey, I appreciate what you did back there; distracting that old bastard while I snaffled me some sausages. He would have caught me for sure if you'd not done that"

"If you really appreciate it, then you'll give me some," the other boy said laconically. "I ain't had nothing to eat today. It's the least you can do."

"Neither have I," Sharpe replied. Indicating the alley with a jerk of his thumb, he said, "Come on, then."

Once inside the alley, the two found crates behind rubbish bins to sit on while they shared the pilfered sausages.

"Name's Sam Carter," Sharpe's new companion said, extending a hand. "You a runaway, too, eh?"

"Dick Sharpe," Sharpe responded, shaking Sam's hand. "How could you tell?"

"Easy," Sam told him. "You look like you ain't eaten or slept much in days, you've got straw in your hair from sleeping in barns, your shoes are falling apart, and you keep looking 'round like you expect someone to be following you."

"Makes sense," Sharpe conceded. "So, why are you running?

"I was working as a footman at this fancy estate," Sam explained. "Got caught rogering the viscount's mistress, I did, so I had to run to save my bollocks. I barely got away with my life, I tell you."

Sharpe chuckled appreciatively, well able to understand Sam's predicament.

"How about you, then?" Sam demanded. "Why are you on the run?"

"I killed the man I worked for," Sharpe said flatly. "I caught the bastard hurting one of the serving girls; trying to rape her. So I had to run 'fore I ended up swinging from a rope." After taking a bite of his sausage, he added, "I've been on the run for about a month now. Don't really know where to go or what to do, other than steal to keep myself fed."

"I've been thinking of joining the army," Sam said, somewhat hesitantly. "Don't want to be a servant no more."

"I'm not sure if I could do that," Sharpe demurred. "Nor sure I could handle not being able to come and go as I please. Can't imagine it would be easy to just quit if I don't like it none."

"But they'll feed and clothe us and give us a place to sleep," Sam pointed out. "And it surely beats swinging at the end of a rope."

"That it does," Sharpe conceded, scratching his chin, which was bristly with adolescent stubble. "It's something to think about if something better don't come along."

"I heard there's supposed to be a recruiting party here today," Sam told him. "Why don't you come along with me and at least hear what they have to say, eh?"

"All right," Sharpe grudgingly agreed. "It's not as if I have anything better to do."

A few minutes later as they finished their pilfered meal, they heard the muffled sound of a drum in the distance.

"That's them," Sam said, cocking an ear. "Do you hear it?"

"I hear it," Sharpe said, yawning. "How do you know it's the army?"

"I've seen recruiting parties before," Sam explained. "They always use a drummer boy to attract a crowd." Heading to the mouth of the alley, he prodded, "Are you coming?"

"Right behind you."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Earlier that same day, Obadiah Hakeswill yawned loudly as he sat up in bed to stretch before rising. The night before, he'd managed to get a barmaid sufficiently drunk on gin to persuade her into his bed, where he'd managed to get his itch thoroughly scratched.

Not a handsome man to begin with, the prominent hanging scar around Obadiah's neck and his uncontrollable twitch, both acquired when he'd been unsuccessfully hanged at age twelve, served to make him even more unattractive to women. Though thus far unable to find a woman who wanted him to court her, he had three means of getting his physical needs met: by getting a woman drunk, by paying a whore, or by bullying the wives of the men under his command to have sex with him. Of the three methods, he much preferred the one he'd employed the previous night.

Obadiah had sent the girl on her way hours ago, knowing he needed to get at least a few hours sleep before beginning the long day of recruiting. It was a good thing that Lt. Chambers was not a stickler about rising early or else the young sergeant would have been very late in reporting for duty.

After dressing, shaving and a quick trip to the jakes, he headed to the tavern for his breakfast. His bed partner of the previous night was nowhere to be seen, nor was the lieutenant, but the drummer boy was blearily working on a bowl of porridge at a small table in the corner.

"Finish up quickly, boy, 'fore the lieutenant gets down here," Hakeswill told the drummer gruffly, twitching briefly. "He'll want to get started right after he eats his breakfast, so he don't need to be held up waitin' for the likes of you."

Not waiting for the boy's response, Obadiah sauntered over to the bar, where he would soon hold court with the prospective recruits that the lieutenant would send in to him to close the deal. He expected a fair amount of recruits, with this being a market town and all.

No sooner had Sergeant Hakeswill started eating his own breakfast, than Lt Chambers appeared, looking slightly hung over and worse for wear. He and Obadiah were of a similar age, but came from totally different worlds. Horace Chambers came from a privileged background and was a younger son, whose father had bought him a commission six scant months ago and had never served in combat. And though he'd be loath to admit it to anyone, the young officer depended heavily on the seasoned Obadiah Hakeswill, constantly asking him for advice.

Obadiah took advantage of his superior's ignorance every chance he got, while at the same time appearing to respect the naïve and inexperienced officer. They'd been to a dozen small towns just like this one on this latest recruitment drive, with the young lieutenant willingly following the experienced sergeant's lead. It worked out well.

"Don't get up, Sergeant," Chambers said briskly as Hakeswill rose from his seat to salute the officer as he approached. "Finish your breakfast. We have plenty of time."

"Thank you, sir," Obadiah said, settling down again as the young officer went to find a seat elsewhere, as was fitting and proper. Officers did not share their meals with enlisted men, even NCOs, if they could at all help it. Nor did most NCOs, Hakeswill included, want to socialize with the officers.

Forty-five minutes later, Lt Chambers reluctantly rose from the table and went to collect the drummer boy, Dawson. "Time to start the music," he said quietly, as the youth followed him to the door. "Sgt. Hakeswill, I trust you're ready to begin?"

"Always ready, sir," Obadiah assured him, twitching. "I'll be waitin' for you to send 'em in." As Chambers and Dawson headed out the front door, he reached into one of his pockets to bring out a supply of shillings and handed them to the barman in readiness for the first batch of recruits. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Richard Sharpe Meets Obadiah Hakeswill

Richard Sharpe and his new friend followed the sound of the drums, as it grew louder, until they came upon a group of men gathered around a man standing on a soap box giving a speech to the small crowd. Standing beside the orating man, was the drummer boy, a couple of years younger than them, clad in a white uniform, black gaiters, and a black bearskin grenadier cap.

The young officer speaking was even more impressive looking, wearing a bright red coat, with a crimson sash around his waist and a sword hanging from his side. On his head was a black bicorn hat, worn sideways.

Noting the two new arrivals, the officer turned their way. "Welcome, gentlemen. You're just in time to hear about the opportunities afforded to those who become gentlemen soldiers in His Majesty's 33rd Regiment of Foot."

Sharpe looked at his companion and rolled his eyes at hearing the words "gentlemen soldiers", considering that the men and boys gathered round were anything but gentlemen. Nevertheless, he leaned against a nearby tree to listen, because he knew he didn't have anything to lose by doing so.

He listened with half an ear as the man continued to blather on about the supposed benefits of joining the army, while idly thinking of how he was going to steal a pair of boots once they'd moved on from the recruitment party.

"…free beer and a £7 signing bonus…".

"What?" Sharpe straightened up and was listening intently now.

"He said we'd get that much just to sign up and free beer on top of that," Sam Carter explained. "Haven't you been listening?"

"I'm listening now," Sharpe replied. The bit about a signing bonus had got his attention and he now was seriously considering joining up. He could try it for awhile to see how he liked army life and if it didn't work out for him, he'd just bugger off and try something else. Right now, it was the best option he had. He could do quite a bit with that amount of money.

As the officer continued to give his presentation while the young drummer persisted with his drum, Richard Sharpe looked around at the others listening nearby. Most looked desperate, like him and Sam Carter, but others looked as if they were merely bored and were looking for a change from their humdrum lives. Two naïve boys, twelve or thirteen years old, stood there starry-eyed, imagining grand adventures in exotic places.

A few minutes later, as Lt. Chambers was winding up his presentation, he made a point of looking at each man in the crowd individually. "Those of you who wisely wish to avail yourselves of this once in a lifetime offer may now step into the pub behind me and see Sergeant Hakeswill to claim your free beer. He will also answer any questions you may have."

"When do we get the seven pounds?" a red-headed man in the crowd called out.

"You'll get that after you've officially signed up, seen the doctor, and been sworn in by a magistrate," the officer told them. "Sergeant Hakeswill can tell you more about that."

"Come on, let's get that beer," Sam Carter urged, tugging on Sharpe's sleeve. "Can't pass up a free drink, can you?"

"I'm coming!" Sharpe assured him. "We can get the beer at least, even if we don't end up joining."

Ten others joined them as they entered the dimly lit pub. There were few patrons inside, so the attention of the twelve men was immediately drawn to the sergeant sitting at the bar, whose uniform and accessories were indistinguishable from the officer outside to the untrained eyes of the would-be recruits.

Richard Sharpe was fascinated by the sergeant's appearance. Obadiah Hakeswill was a rawboned man of medium height and indeterminate age, with a shaved head and prominent cheekbones. What drew Sharpe's eyes, however, was the thick, purplish scar around this man's neck and the fact that his face twitched, apparently involuntarily, every thirty seconds or so. As he approached the sergeant, he wondered what the man's story was.

Hakeswill grinned at the sight of twelve potential recruits heading his way, already counting the fifteen shilling bonus he'd get for each one who enlisted. This was why he'd volunteered for recruitment duty in the first place. While on English soil, it was the most lucrative duty possible for a sergeant. Those languishing in garrison duty got only base pay, which the army ate up charging each man for daily incidentals.

"Gather 'round, lads!" he called out affably, his blue eyes flashing as he twitched briefly. Making a half-turn to the waiting bartender, he said, "Beers all 'round for these fine lads who wants to be gentlemen soldiers!" In a lower tone of voice, he told the bartender, "Keep 'em coming, 'til I tells you to stop."

Turning back to a large oat cake that sat on the bar next to him, he broke off pieces and handed one to each of the men. "Have you a bit of something to eat to wash that beer down with, eh?"

As each man dutifully took a piece as the bartender began handing out beers, the sergeant said, "Grab a seat and take a load off for a bit, while I tells you about why it's a good idea to serve in His Majesty's fine army."

Twitching again, Hakeswill took a long swig of his own beer, watching as the men settled themselves around him. After a moment, he began, "Lads, I'm Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill and I'm here to tell you why joining the 33rd Regiment of Foot would be the best decision you could ever make and to answer any questions you might have."

Richard Sharpe exchanged a glance with Sam Carter rolling his eyes, but said nothing, waiting to see what the sergeant would say.

"By joining the 33rd, you not only gets to serve your King and country, you gets to travel and see the world," the sergeant continued, oblivious to the exchange between the two young men. "I've been all over during my time in the army and, let me tell you, you gets to roger all sorts of foreign women when you're overseas. Them heathen women loves soldiers, even ugly bastards like me. Mark my words, you'll get more 'n you can handle."

After pausing for a moment to allow the men to consider this happy prospect, Hakeswill added, "Not only that, the army lets us plunder the bodies and equipment of the enemy dead after battles. That's more money than you can make apprenticing for some slave-driving miser or bein' a servant for some rich bugger where, in both cases, you'd never see nowhere but the town you lives in for the rest of your days."

Warming to his subject, he went on, "And those of you who wants to escape your debts or nagging wives, the army's the perfect haven for you. Even those of you on the run from the hangman or wantin' to keep from being sent to the ends of the Earth to Australia can find your home here with the 33rd."

Sharpe and Carter exchanged glances again, but without rolling their eyes this time. Sharpe had been a bit concerned that the army might have turned him over to the authorities if they found out he was on the run from the law or, at the very least, would have refused to allow him to enlist. He was relieved to find out these fears were groundless and that there would be no impediment to him joining if he decided to take that step.

"Do any of you lads have any questions 'fore I begin writin' down the names of the ones who wants to enlist?" Hakeswill said, holding up his roster.

Sharpe raised his hand tentatively, waiting for the sergeant to acknowledge him.

"You there, boy," Hakeswill growled, twitching. "What's your name?"

"Sharpe, sir," Sharpe replied nervously. "Dick Sharpe."

"Well, go ahead and ask your question then, Sharpe," the older man urged, his tone impatient.

After clearing his throat, Sharpe asked, "How long have you been in the army, Sergeant Hakeswill?"

"Almost half my life," Hakeswill replied proudly. "Enlisted when I was a lad of twelve, I did. Lost my mother that year and didn't have no family left, so's I joined the army as a drummer boy and it's been my home and family ever since."

Dick Sharpe wondered if Hakeswill had got the scar around his neck in the army and, if so, under what circumstances, but knew better than to ask. Unfortunately, however, the rawboned sergeant did not see fit to enlighten him.

A few others also asked questions, to which Sharpe and his friend listened with half an ear. This was the first time in weeks either of them had had the chance to relax and enjoy a beer without having to look over their shoulders and they were making the most of it. As the sergeant continued to answer questions, the bartender gave refills on the beer, Both young men, along with the other men, drifted into a drunken haze as the beers kept coming. Obadiah Hakeswill however, remained sober, giving only the appearance of mild intoxication.

Near the end of the question and answer session, a stocky man in his early twenties sitting near Sharpe, tipped his mug up to get the last few drops of his beer. "Look what I found!" he exclaimed in a slightly slurred voice as he pulled a single shilling out of the mug and held it up. Walking closer to the bar, he tried to hand the shilling to the bartender, but then placed it on the bar when he saw that the man's hands were full. "Hey, mate, I thinks you accidentally dropped this into me beer."

Turning to Hakeswill, he said, "Thank you kindly for the beer and the talk about the army, but I still needs to think on it some and discuss it with me family 'fore I decide whether or not to go ahead and join."

"Not so fast, lad," the sergeant said lazily, twitching, as he held up one hand. "When you handled that shilling, you accepted your first day's pay as a private soldier in His Majesty's army. You've already done enlisted."

As if to back up Hakeswill's words, another sergeant, taller and heavier, appeared in the doorway, ready to block anyone who might try to make a run for it.

"That ain't right," the man feebly protested. "You done tricked me!"

"Ain't my concern if you ain't observant enough to look out for yourself," Hakeswill said, cackling in amusement at the man's predicament. "It's all perfectly legal-like."

Most of the other men, including Sharpe and Carter were sufficiently inebriated that they didn't pay much attention to the exchange between the two men. Sharpe had already found his shilling and had quietly pocketed it without a word to anyone, as anyone who had grown up thieving would have done. His mind was centred on collecting the £7 bonus for enlisting.

Beckoning to the other sergeant who had moved in to take charge of the stocky man, Hakeswill gestured with a jerk of his thumb and said, "Get him out of here and take him to the back room. Don't want him upsetting the other recruits none. Doc is already waitin'. I'll start bringing the others back shortly."

Sergeant Hakeswill had arranged with the doctor to come to the pub to conduct the pre-enlistment examinations, rather than bringing the enlistees to the doctor's office. It was quicker and easier and it helped prevent those who had second thoughts about joining from running off. The quicker the process of finalizing the enlistments, the less time it gave a recruit to have second thoughts in the first place.

And the magistrate's office, where the medically approved recruits would be formally sworn into King George's army, was directly across the street from the pub, which was why this particular pub had been chosen in the first place as a recruitment site.

Hakeswill allowed the men to get a bit drunker before he moved the group to the back room to get their examinations, after promising them more beer once everything was concluded. Between him and the other sergeant, all the men were promptly seen, then herded across the street for the final step.

Dick Sharpe, after spending a hazy drunken afternoon, dimly remembered being poked and prodded in a short, perfunctory examination in the back of the pub. He went where he was directed without protest, with the promise of more beer and the signing bonus still in his mind.

The haze had begun to clear, however, by the time he was standing in front of the magistrate and had appropriately answered the questions put to him.

"Sign your name here," the magistrate instructed in a bored tone, indicating a roster in front of him. "Be quick about it, now."

"Can't write, sir," Sharpe admitted. "Never learned my letters."

"Make your mark, then," the man replied, handing him the pen.

After taking the pen, which had already been dipped in ink, Sharpe awkwardly made an X on the paper. For better or worse, Richard Sharpe was now officially the newest private in the 33rd Regiment of Foot.


	4. This is the Army, Mr Sharpe

_**Author's Note:** The title of this chapter was inspired by the World War II song, "This is the Army, Mr Jones"._

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_

Three days after being sworn in to the army, Richard Sharpe and the other recruits were marching to the 33rd Regiment's training camp. Sergeant Hakeswill and the rest of the recruiting party accompanied them, as it was the end of this recruiting cycle, and they would remain in camp for a week or so before heading out on another recruiting drive.

As the group slowly made its way to the training camp, some of the men grumbled under their breath about being tricked into enlisting. Hakeswill mostly turned a deaf ear to this, as it was expected and he didn't want to spend any more time on the road than necessary, because the chances of men running away increased the longer they took.

After the group of recruits slowly marched out of one little hamlet, they dragged their feet and did not keep up a proper pace in Sgt Hakeswill's opinion. Narrowing his eyes, Obadiah decided it was time to get their attention and show this motley mob of miscreants who was boss.

Walking up and down the line of men, glaring at each man in turn, Hakeswill bellowed, "Pick up your bloody feet and step smartly, you bloody sods. This ain't no damned afternoon stroll to a ladies' tea party."

"Bloody bastard, I'm sick of all this bleeding marching," the sergeant heard one man mutter under his breath as he passed by. It was Charlie Jenkins, a malcontent who had been stirring up the other men ever since they'd left Sowerby Bridge, mostly complaining about how he'd been tricked into joining. It was time to put this rotten apple in his place before he spoiled the bunch. Singling out the large, clumsy man, who was slower in both mind and body than the canny sergeant, Hakeswill spun suddenly on his heel to get up in Jenkins' face.

Glancing quickly at the other men to make sure he had their attention, Hakeswill cackled, then sneered, "Look at him! He thinks he's too good to march like the rest of us. Lord of the manor, he thinks he is."

Without warning, Hakeswill punched Jenkins in the face, sending him staggering. Punching him again, he dropped the big man to the ground, where he kicked him several times in the shins.

As Jenkins slowly gathered himself up to get back on his feet, the sergeant glanced back at the other recruits, who had been mumbling among themselves as he'd given Jenkins a good kicking. "Any of the rest of you malcontents don't like it none, speak up now and I'll sort you out right quick, I will."

Wisely, no one made a sound, so Hakeswill turned his attention back to the unfortunate Jenkins, who stood miserably, with blood running down his face out of his nose.

"Shut your gob, you snivelling baby," the sergeant roared, glaring at him only inches from his face, twitching briefly. "You got any more complaints, you filthy bastard?"

After a long silent moment, Hakeswill growled, "I didn't think so." Kicking Jenkins one last time, he added, "Move along, you big dumb ox! I don't want to hear no more nattering out of the likes of you."

The group moved on with no further incident with Hakeswill having thoroughly made his point.

Richard Sharpe was glad he'd not been on the receiving end of the sergeant's ire, but he knew it had been Jenkins' own fault for constantly complaining and attracting Hakeswill's attention. He figured he could get along and avoid such treatment by not getting in Hakeswill's way and by not openly complaining. It seemed quite straightforward to him.

Sharpe was not concerned about what Jenkins had been complaining about. True, it had been an underhanded thing to put shillings in the bottom of the beer mugs, but Sharpe had gone into the tavern with the express purpose of joining, in any instance, so the method did not bother him overmuch. His purpose had been clear before ever meeting Obadiah Hakeswill, so it was of no concern to him. He'd cheated the hangman by joining the army and that's all that mattered to Richard Sharpe now.

Obadiah Hakeswill was satisfied and content as the group continued to make its way to the training camp. He'd shown this group of maladjusted miscreants just who was boss and he'd not heard a peep out of them since he'd made an example of Charlie Jenkins. Jenkins hadn't been the only malcontent, but he'd been the most persistent and, more importantly, the largest man in the group. In Hakeswill's experience, if you took on the biggest man and cut him down to size, then the others would fall into line right quick. Obadiah wasn't a large man, but he was quick and agile, and this wasn't the first time he'd beaten a man taller and heavier than himself. Nor would it be the last time.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Several days later, Richard Sharpe found plenty of reasons of his own to regret his hasty enlistment in the army.

After the recruits had arrived at the 33rd's training camp, Sergeant Hakeswill turned them over to the training sergeants, after which they didn't see him any more. After being told where they would sleep, the men had been issued uniforms and other equipment. He quickly learned that he'd been charged for everything that had been issued to him and would be charged for his meals and for having his laundry done, among other things.

As he and his friend, Sam Carter, sat down to their first meal at the training camp, now penniless once more, Sharpe groused, "Seven pound signing bonus, all gone. I should have known better that it was too good to be true." Shaking his head, he continued, "Charging us for everything, they are. We're soldiers, not bloody customers!"

"That's true; we ain't going to get rich, but by my way of thinking, we're still better off than we were before," the other man said reasonably.

"How do you figure that?"

"Look at it this way, mate," Sam began calmly. "The most important thing to consider is that you're safe from the hangman. And you've got new clothes to wear, food in your belly, and somewhere safe to sleep. So far as that goes, you've come out ahead."

"I suppose so," Sharpe said slowly, still feeling uncertain and glum. "But I can't help but feel cheated, anyway."

"Remember what Hakeswill told us about looting and plundering after battles," Sam reminded him. "That's where the real money can be made, I'm thinking."

"I hope you're right," Sharpe said dubiously. "Hakeswill could be lying about that, too. He's a right bastard, he is."

"I don't think he's lying about that," Sam said. "It just makes too much sense to be a lie. I had me a cousin who'd been in the army and he'd told stories that match up with what Hakeswill said." Chuckling contentedly, he added, "But you're right; Hakeswill IS a bastard. Good thing he'll be leaving to go back to recruiting and we won't have to deal with him no more."

"Not as if any of these other sergeants are any better," Sharpe groused, glad that none of them could hear their conversation. "But you've got a point. It's not as if I have any better prospects, do I?"

"That's the spirit!" Sam replied. "Give it a chance."

"I might as well," Sharpe agreed, still feeling half-hearted. "I'll stick it out for awhile and see if things start looking up a bit."

Over the next few months, as Obadiah Hakeswill continued with recruitment duty, Richard Sharpe and the rest of his fellow recruits remained in camp and learned the fine art of musketry, along with the use of a bayonet. Extensive training was also given in the tedious routines involved in caring for his uniform and equipment.

Endless hours were spending doing drill, along with constant inspections and parades. Nearly as much time was spent preparing for these inspections, washing and repairing uniforms, along with the cleaning and polishing of equipment.

Just when Dick Sharpe thought he could stand no more of this and was about to desert, basic training was over and the recruits were sent to join the 33rd's battalion company in Cork.

Sharpe hadn't been in Ireland for very long when they finally shipped out for active duty. The 33rd was sent to Flanders in June of 1794, a little over a year after he'd enlisted. He looked forward to going, eager to get a chance to try his hand at looting at last.

Obadiah Hakeswill, to his own great satisfaction, remained in England, still attached to recruitment duty, where he continued to make money in recruitment bonuses. If it was up to him and luck stayed with him, he'd be happy to remain a recruiting sergeant for the rest of his army career. Life was good.


	5. Obadiah's New Assignment

**April 1795**

Two years after he enlisted, Richard Sharpe returned to England as a corporal, having had his baptism of fire the previous September in the battle of Boxtel. The battle had been a defeat, where his regiment had lost 430 men. Only six casualties had been killed by the French, with the rest being because of the harsh weather conditions and starvation. Corporal Sharpe had been lucky to escape with mild case of frostbite and a few pounds lost; others he'd known had not been so fortunate.

The young soldier had also had his first taste of looting from the enemy dead and wounded, which had turned out to be rather lucrative, just as Obadiah Hakeswill had told him when he'd enlisted. He'd acquired a small nest egg, which he guarded closely, lest he was robbed by the men in his own company. Sharpe had avoided starvation mainly by stealing from the local population, something the officers had turned a blind eye to from both indifference and knowing it was necessary for the men to survive.

Two years earlier, the tedium of garrison life had nearly driven Sharpe to desert, but now, he was gratefully looking forward to it as a time of rest and recuperation.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Not long before the 33rd had embarked on the homeward journey, Obadiah Hakeswill had been transferred back to garrison duty, along with the rest of his recruiting party. His group was being rotated out with another recruiting party that had been relegated to garrison duty for the last year. The rotation orders had been unexpected, and the rawboned sergeant hadn't been at all pleased with his new assignment. In his opinion, the only duty worth having while serving on English soil was in recruitment, as it was the only easy way to make any money without it all being eaten up by regular army deductions.

He'd been in a foul humour ever since being told of his new assignment, which he took out on the men under his command. Sgt. Hakeswill had always had a reputation for being a bastard, so this was nothing surprising to the men when he lived up to this reputation and then some.

Nevertheless, Obadiah had always known how to make the best of any situation he found himself in and to work things to his advantage. Soon after arriving in camp, he managed to talk his way into being appointed quartermaster sergeant. It hadn't been difficult; old Sgt Hunter had recently died and though there were sergeants senior to Obadiah, he'd once helped a certain captain to steal camp funds, thus had been given this position to ensure his continued silence. This was the only worthwhile job to have in camp, as it would give him access to army supplies and would allow him to pilfer and sell such stolen supplies on the black market. No matter what, Obadiah Hakeswill invariably found a way to make money - when given lemons, he always found a way to make lemonade.

But he had another reason to improve his disposition a notch when he'd returned to camp to take up his new duties. To his gratification, he found a new group of camp wives in residence. Comely lasses they were, too. And, better still, a few were married to the private soldiers under his command, thus Obadiah could gain access to them by intimidating their husbands. Over the years, the canny sergeant had found that wives would do just about _anything_ to keep their men from being flogged. It was a happy thought for him to know that he could get his itches scratched on a regular basis and not have to pay for it, either.

The morning after he arrived in camp, Hakeswill went to the camp warehouse to report to the officer in charge and to begin his new duties. As he entered the dilapidated warehouse building, he found a bored, half-asleep corporal sitting at a desk in a back of the facility.

Raising an eyebrow at the sluggish soldier, Obadiah said, twitching briefly, "I sees you don't have enough work to keep you busy, you lazy sod. That ain't going to happen no more, mark my words, now that I'm here."

Corporal George Potter was new to the 33rd, so he didn't know who the rawboned sergeant was standing in front of him. In the short time Potter had been with the regiment, he'd seen Hakeswill from a distance a few times when the sergeant had brought new recruits to camp but, beyond that, knew nothing of the man's reputation.

Disregarding the dismayed expression on the corporal's face, Hakeswill continued, "I'm Sgt. Hakeswill, here to take Sgt. Hunter's place. I'm supposed to report to a Lt. Morris - where is he?"

Potter just barely suppressed the urge to laugh, as Morris rarely managed to show up before noon each day. Coughing to cover up his chuckle, he told the sergeant, "Lt. Morris rarely gets here before noon most days." He helpfully pantomimed the action of one drinking a bottle of liquor, so that Hakeswill would get his meaning without him having to say it.

"I sees what you mean," the sergeant acknowledged, cackling gleefully. "I'll just have me a look at the place while I'm waitin' for him, then. Come and get me if he turns up any earlier."

Not waiting for Potter's response, Hakeswill walked off, cackling again to himself, pleased with the information the corporal had given him. With Morris being a drunk, that would make it easier for him to steal in peace, unhindered by an overzealous, by-the-book officer. Obadiah was certain he could run roughshod over this officer while making it all look like Morris' idea in the first place.

The sergeant spent a couple of hours going over the inventory, deciding which items would bring the most on the black market, estimating how much he could steal at any given time without undue suspicion being aroused. After he'd done that and Lt. Morris had still not shown, he went through the records and requisition lists, checking the number, types, and locations of suppliers. Hakeswill soon suspected that the previous sergeant had been stealing, as there were certain telltale discrepancies in the records. He recognized them easily enough, having engaged in similar creative bookkeeping in the past, himself.

By the time noon arrived, Lt Morris still had not made an appearance. Hakeswill went off to the mess hall for his lunch, not willing to miss a meal for anyone.

"He's here now," Corporal Potter told him when he returned to the warehouse after lunch, pointing off to his right to indicate where Morris' office was.

"'Bout time he got his lazy carcass here," Obadiah muttered under his breath as he stepped in the direction Potter had indicated.

A moment later, Hakeswill knocked briefly, then entered the small cubicle that served as an office for the junior officer.

Lt. Charles Morris was a bleary-eyed man about ten years Obadiah's senior, already running to fat. As the sergeant entered, the officer looked up from his desk, where he'd been pouring himself a generous drink from a bottle of gin.

"Come in, Sergeant," Morris said, indicating a chair, as he set the bottle down and took a tentative sip. "You must be Sergeant Hunter's replacement."

"Thank you, sir," Hakeswill said, twitching, as he took a seat. "Obadiah Hakeswill, sir, at your service, reporting for duty."

"At ease, Sergeant," Morris said, relaxing as the gin entered his bloodstream. "You have big shoes to fill, as Sgt. Hunter was my most trusted right-hand man." Pausing to take another sip, he confided, "But you come most highly recommended by Captain Abercrombie. He assured me that you are more than up to the task and will suit my needs most admirably."

"Thank you, sir," Hakeswill replied, twitching briefly. "I aims to please."

Looking closely at the rawboned sergeant for the first time, Morris was somewhat disconcerted by the man's nervous twitch and wondered briefly what had happened to this man to cause it. Pushing aside his curiosity, he continued, "Before I begin to outline your duties, I need to make a few things clear so that we have an understanding."

Hakeswill raised an eyebrow, but did not otherwise comment, waiting for the officer to elaborate.

"First of all, I don't care if you steal and sell supplies on the black market," Morris said. "In fact, I expect it; it's just the nature of the job."

"Mighty forward thinking, you are, sir," Hakeswill said, cackling contentedly.

"My only stipulations are that you don't steal so much that it brings unwanted attention this office," Morris continued. "And, of course, I must have a percentage of the take."

"'Course, sir! Wouldn't have it no other way!" Hakeswill assured him, twitching slightly.

"Good, then we understand one another," the other man said. "I have every confidence in your ability along these lines to make this a profitable venture for the both of us." Pausing to take another sip, he added "I will leave the details of day to day operations up to you. The less I know of routine business, the better. It also goes without saying that if you are caught, I will deny all knowledge of your activities."

"You just leave it all to me, sir," Obadiah assured him. "I'll make us some money and no one will be any the wiser." Grinning widely, he thought of how naïve this Morris was. If Obadiah went down, he'd be taking this drunken sot of an officer down with him, make no bones about that. The sergeant would gather the damning evidence to make sure of it. It would come in handy one day, if he ever needed to blackmail Morris for one reason or another.

"Excellent," Morris said. "Now that we have that out of the way, let's get down to business." Picking up a few papers on his desk, he continued, "What's left of the 33rd on the continent will be returning here within a week or so. They've been mauled pretty badly, so we need to have a fully stocked warehouse upon their return, so they can be re-outfitted." Giving Hakeswill a conspiratorial smirk, "At least have it stocked enough to look legitimate."

"I understand, sir," Hakeswill said, cackling again, thinking of all the money he was going to make. He'd been unhappy about losing his place on the recruitment team, but this duty looked like it might end up being as lucrative or even more so than recruiting had been.

"Here's a list of what's needed, plus a list of suppliers," Morris said, handing him the papers. "Go around today and tomorrow, meet the suppliers, and place your orders."

"I'll get started on it right away, sir," Hakeswill promised.

Once he'd left Lt Morris to continue his drinking unhindered, Obadiah checked the lists he'd been given. All the vendors were conveniently located in the town adjoining to the camp, which suited the sergeant; it would give him the opportunity to leave camp often with no questions being asked.

After quickly, perusing the list, Hakeswill decided to visit the cobbler first. Through previous experience, he knew that new shoes and boots would be one of the most pressing needs for the returning soldiers.

As he left the camp, now in a better mood than when the day had begun, he decided to stop at a pub once he'd concluded his business with the cobbler. If Morris could spend his days drinking himself into a stupor, then Obadiah certainly had a right to a few pints before returning to camp.


	6. An Unexpected Meeting

After leaving the camp, Obadiah Hakeswill soon veered off the main road onto a path through the woods that was a shortcut into the small town of Leadingham, which would save him twenty minutes.

Once he got into town, it didn't take him long to find Jacob Cutler's cobbler shop, which was located on a quiet side street. The shop was larger than one would expect of an average small-town cobbler, mostly because of the contract with the army, which had necessitated occasionally hiring more men to fill orders on a timely basis. There was also a good sized workshop building situated directly behind the shop proper.

Obadiah found the shop empty when he entered, save for a woman behind the counter turned away from him, who was bent over a worktable. She straightened and turned when she heard the door open, showing herself to be a young woman around eighteen or so. Smiling in welcome when she saw him, she said, "May I help you, Sergeant?"

Obadiah twitched, then gulped nervously, when he saw the young woman, whose hair was the colour of newly-mown hay, the exact same shade as that of his dearly departed mother. In his estimation, this was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, like something from a dream. He was gratified to see that the woman did not turn away in revulsion, like so many women did, when his face twitched.

Clearing his throat, he explained, "I'm the new quartermaster sergeant." Holding up the requisition form, he added helpfully, "I needs to see Jacob Cutler about this requisition list."

"Where is Sergeant Hunter?" she asked, mildly curious. "He has been the one we've dealt with for years."

"Man died, he did," the young sergeant told her briefly, twitching again. "That's why I'm here; I'm his replacement."

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, frowning briefly in concern. A moment later, she quickly added, "But I am glad to meet you, Sergeant. I'm Jane Cutler, the owner's daughter."

"Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill, at your service, missy," he said proudly, favouring her with what he hoped was a winning smile. "Fine thing to meet you, too, it is."

"Sergeant Hakeswill," Jane acknowledged, with the slightest dip of a curtsey. She looked up, meeting his blue eyes; their eyes locking for a brief moment, before she self-consciously averted her gaze.

"I needs to see your Da about these requisitions," he repeated, still unable to take his eyes from her.

"I've been running the front of the shop since my mother died three years ago," Jane explained briskly. "Da doesn't do much of the business part, because he'd rather just make the shoes and boots, you see. Besides, he's not here right now, anyway." Reaching out for the form he held, she said, "I can take care of that for you, Sergeant Hakeswill."

After giving it to her, he said, "Sorry to hear about your mother. I knows how it feels, 'cos I lost mine when I was just a lad of eleven. Not a day goes by that I don't still miss her."

Looking at him with a sympathetic expression, Jane said, "I feel the same way. My Ma was my best friend."

Suddenly embarrassed by his intense gaze, she turned her attention to business. After quickly perusing the list, she remarked, "This is a much bigger order than what we normally do."

"Got a bunch of lads comin' back from battle," he told her. "They took a good beating, so's they'll be needin' all new shoes and boots. Them what still has shoes will be havin' 'em fallin' off their feet, all worn out, and a bunch of others will be comin' home barefoot, they will."

"I guess my Da's helpers need to get busy making shoes, then," she said, chuckling.

"Right you are missy," Obadiah agreed, chuckling along with her. "They needs to get started right away."

"When will the men get back to camp?" she asked.

"Don't know for sure, but it should be in the next week or two, I'm thinking," he told her.

"All right," she replied. "As soon as my Da gets back, we'll get started on it."

"I'll come back every now and then to see how it's comin' along," he promised, twitching slightly.

"I'll look forward to seeing you again, Sergeant," she told him, giving him a friendly smile.

"Obadiah, missy," he said quietly. "You can call me by my Christian name if you wants to. I expects we'll be seeing a good bit of each other in the next few weeks, no doubt."

"Obadiah, then," she replied. "And you must call me Jane."

"Jane it is," he said, looking her over again appreciatively. After a short pause, he added, "I hate to go, but I needs to go see the tailor today, too. Them boys will be coming home in rags and will need new uniforms as much as shoes."

"Until next time," she said, picking up the requisition form, ready to take it back to the workshop.

Some time later, as he was heading back to camp after visiting the tailor and stopping at the pub for a few pints, Obadiah was still thinking about Jane Cutler. He'd been immediately drawn to the sweet-natured young woman, who had rendered him almost shy in her presence.

Jane was different from the usual type of women he usually sought out to scratch his itches; there was something essentially innocent and pure about her. Rather than wanting to just use her to satisfy his lust, Obadiah experienced the unfamiliar feeling of wanting to be protective of her, just as he'd felt about his own dear mother.

As he continued to walk, he thought about marriage, something he'd never before considered for himself. He was twenty-five now; it was about time for him to find a wife and sire some children. Every man wanted at least one son - and perhaps a few daughters as well. Jane was the type of woman he would have felt proud to bring home to his mother. Obadiah considered the idea that it was quite possible that he had just met the woman who was meant to be his wife.

The young sergeant was a bit nervous, knowing he'd have to properly court her if he was going to win her heart. He couldn't treat the future mother of his children like a common whore, as he'd done with the women he'd been with since joining the army. This was all new territory for Obadiah Hakeswill and he didn't quite know how to properly go about it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Nearly a year before, Richard Sharpe had left England as a boy; a green, untested soldier. As the ship carrying him and his weary comrades entered Portsmouth harbour, he returned as a man, with hard won experience under his belt. He'd been tested in battle, and suffered the privations of hunger and harsh weather conditions, but had endured and survived.

And, like Obadiah Hakeswill, he had found purpose and a home in the army. Young Sharpe had proven to be a natural-born soldier, something that his superiors had quickly recognized. His coolness under fire and ability to motivate his fellow soldiers had soon earned him a promotion to corporal.

As he walked down the gangplank gingerly, on feet that had suffered frostbite the previous winter, he was grateful to set foot on English soil once more. There were times in the previous months when he'd seriously doubted he'd live long enough to see his homeland again.

Of the original group recruited at the same time with him, only three were returning that day. His best friend, Sam Carter, had died at Boxtel without ever having fired a shot. Charlie Jenkins, the malcontent that Obadiah Hakeswill had given a kicking to on the way to the training camp, managed to survive the battle in one piece, but succumbed to illness in the harsh winter that followed. Sharpe had made other friends, but he'd always miss the good-natured Sam Carter.

"Feels good to be home, Sharpe, don't it," said one of his fellow corporals, Ben Lawson, as they began marching inland toward the 33rd's home base..

"Right you are," Sharpe agreed, shifting his musket from one shoulder to the other. His steps were a bit unsteady, as he'd not yet re-acquired his "land legs".

"What are you going to do first when we get back to camp?" Lawson asked. "'Fore anything else, I'm going to have me a real bath with real soap. Then I'm going to find me some pretty lass to roger."

"Me, too," Sharpe said grinning. "Be nice to find one what speaks English and who's had a bath herself. First, though, I think I'm going to sleep for a week after drinking the biggest bottle of gin I can find."

"And eat 'til I can't fit in me breeches no more, too," Lawson added.

"Sounds good," Sharpe replied happily. "Even army food will taste good, just as long as there's plenty of it."

The two men fell silent then, marching on in eager anticipation of the indulgences to come.


	7. Sharpe's New Duties

A week and a half after Obadiah Hakeswill first met Jane Cutler, Corporal Richard Sharpe and the rest of the bedraggled remnants of the 33rd finally arrived back at their home base, weary and footsore. Orders for new supplies to re-provision the returning troops had yet to be completed, partially because of Sergeant Hakeswill diverting a portion of the goods from each sutler into the black market, so quite a few of the men would remain in tattered uniforms and broken shoes with flapping soles for the next several weeks.

Richard Sharpe did not care; he was just glad to be on home soil again, with a full belly and a full bag of coins. He'd stripped a dead French dragoon of his trousers and shirt not long before returning to England, so he at least wasn't showing his arse through torn trousers, like so many of his comrades were. They'd be on garrison duty for some time to come, so he was content to wait patiently for new supplies. It would be a couple of days before all the returning men would be assigned to various duties, and Sharpe was more than happy enough to wait for that, too.

In the meanwhile, he intended to get drunk as often as he was allowed to visit the pub in town. With a the loot he'd plundered in Belgium, he had enough to keep himself in liquor for some time to come, with plenty left over for whores as well.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Since meeting Jane Cutler, Obadiah Hakeswill spent every idle moment daydreaming about the comely young woman, thinking of how to go about courting her. He knew at least that he had to take it slow; that it wouldn't be proper to rush a respectable woman like her. Though he had no experience with decent women, he did not ask anyone for advice on how to win her affection. There was no one he trusted enough to confide in and he'd always made a point of keeping his private business to himself since joining the army. Over the years, he'd had plenty of opportunities to observe officers courting proper ladies, so he'd decided to muddle through as best he could.

Because Lt. Morris had kept him busy for the next few days, mostly arranging for the sale of stolen goods on the black market, he didn't have the chance to visit the cobbler shop again as soon as he would have liked. Nearly a week passed before he had the chance to go into Leadingham. It was about time to check on the progress of the shoe order, so he had the perfect excuse to stop in to see Jane.

After washing up and putting on a clean shirt with his uniform, Obadiah thought it might be nice to bring a gift for Jane. But what? It shouldn't be anything too personal, because he wanted to take it slow and didn't want to scare her off before any relationship ever got started.

His eyes swept around the sergeants' barracks until they fell on the coal bin in the corner. "_That's it!_" he thought to himself."_I'll bring her a scuttle of coal!_"

Some time later, as he entered the cobbler shop, he found Jane sitting alone at a desk doing some paperwork. "Obadiah," she greeted him, smiling, as she looked up from her work. "It's good to see you again." Looking down at the coal scuttle he was carrying, she asked, "What do you have there?"

"Brought you a scuttle of coal, I did," he told her, twitching nervously. "Thought you might be able to use some extra."

"Oh, how wonderfully kind of you," she said warmly, accepting his gift. "You can put it by the hearth, if you would, please. I will certainly put it to good use."

"Glad to be of service, missy," he said, grinning broadly. "Any time you needs help with anything, you just call on me."

"You're such a good friend, Obadiah," she told him, favouring him with a tentative smile, wondering why he'd brought a gift.

"I hopes to be."

"What can I do for you today?"

"I just want to check how far along your father is with the order," the sergeant explained. "I needs to give Lt. Morris an idea, 'cos the men have just started arrivin' back in camp today."

"Nearly halfway through," she told him. "They've been working steadily on it." After stepping into the back room for a moment, she came back with a brand new pair of boots. "Take a look at these and you'll see they're very well made."

Hakeswill inspected the footwear carefully, which were indeed as finely made as Jane had claimed. "Fine looking pair of boots. I'd be proud to wear a pair like these."

"They're yours," she said, putting a finger to her lips. "They look to be about your size. Just don't tell no one I gave them to you. Da wouldn't be happy if he knew I gave a pair away."

"Our little secret," Obadiah said, his heart warm with gladness, as it seemed as if Jane liked him, too. "Let me see if they're the right size, first, though." After lifting one foot and placing the sole of one of the new boots against it, he pronounced, "Just right! How'd you know what size I was?"

"I've been doing this job for so long that I can pretty much just look at someone's feet and know about what size is right," she explained, shrugging. "I'm glad they'll fit."

"I 'preciates it," he told her quietly, twitching again. "Always good to have a spare pair of boots."

"I'm glad you like them," she said, her tone businesslike once more.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\

Two days after Corporal Richard Sharpe arrived back in camp, he and six privates were given orders to report to Sergeant Hakeswill for duty at the warehouse.

"Well, at least I won't be spending my time doing all that bloody drilling," Sharpe muttered to himself in consolation as he made his way over to the warehouse with the other men. "Hope Hakeswill won't be too much of a bastard to work for."

A few minutes later, he found the rawboned sergeant in the back of the warehouse sitting at a desk drinking coffee.

"Corporal Sharpe reporting for duty as ordered, Sergeant Hakeswill," Sharpe said, saluting the senior NCO as he stopped in front of the desk.

"Well, if it ain't Dick Sharpe," Hakeswill said, cackling as he acknowledged the corporal. "Done made corporal, have you? Army life must be agreein' with you as much as it does me."

"That it does," Sharpe agreed.

Indicating the coffee pot and a few mugs sitting on a shelf nearby, the sergeant said, "Have you a cup of coffee, Sharpie, 'fore I tells you what you and the lads will be doing here."

"Don't mind if I do," the younger man said, heading over to get a cup.

A few minutes later, after the two men finished their coffee, Hakeswill rose from the desk. "Come on, Sharpie. I'll show you the warehouse and tells you what needs to be done."

Beckoning for Sharpe to follow him, he went down one aisle, which had several empty shelves. Other shelves that contained inventory were jumbled and disorganised.

"I've only just took over in here, 'cos the sergeant what was here before me died," Hakeswill explained. "Man was old and feeble, so that explains the sorry state of this warehouse. He just wasn't up to the work no more."

Not waiting for Sharpe to comment, he continued, "I've done put orders in for all the equipment what you lads who just returned to camp will need to have replaced, but ain't none of it ready yet. When it's all ready, I'll be needin' you to take these lads to each sutler to pick up the orders. After bringin' it back here, you'll put it in proper order here on the shelves, 'fore it all gets issued to each man, see?"

"Right, Sergeant," Sharpe replied, nodding in understanding.

"While you're waiting for the orders to be ready, I'll be needin' what we have now to be organized, so's we know what we have and can make room for the new stuff."

As they left the aisle and returned to the desk by the fireplace where the coffee pot still waited, Hakeswill concluded, "It ain't very interesting work, but it's better than bein' out in the mud doing drill all damned day long."

"You're right there," Sharpe agreed. "I know I'm lucky to have got this duty."

"You does what I says and minds your own business and keeps your mouth shut, we'll get along fine," Hakeswill told him, twitching briefly. "You cross me and I promises that you'll be more sorry than you can ever imagine, mark my words."

"Ain't going to be no problem, Sarge," Sharpe promised him. "Not me, nor none of the lads here are going to ruin easy duty like this."

"Good," Hakeswill growled. "Just so's you understand how it's going to be."


	8. Sharpe's Opportunity

Over the next couple of weeks, Corporal Sharpe and the six privates settled into a comfortable routine working at the warehouse. Obadiah Hakeswill had turned out to be easy enough to work for, just so long as one minded his own business and did not ask too many questions, which Sharpe was happy enough to abide by.

It had soon become obvious to the young corporal that the sergeant was stealing from the warehouse and selling supplies on the black market, but as long as Hakeswill didn't steal from _him_, Sharpe was content to turn a blind eye to the sergeant's activities. He also knew better than to steal from Hakeswill, fully aware that when one steals from a thief, the revenge would be swift and merciless. But sometimes Hakeswill sent a guinea or two his way as a reward for his cooperation, so the young soldier saw no need to rock the boat, It was comfortable, easy duty and he was happy to go along to get along.

It didn't take him and the group of privates long to organize the warehouse to Hakeswill's satisfaction, nor did dealing with the sutlers take up much time, so the group had a lot of empty hours on their hands. Sergeant Hakeswill didn't care what they did to fill the time, just so long as they stayed out of his way and did not attract the attention of any officers who might get it in their heads to interfere.

This arrangement meant that Sharpe had ended up with plenty of time for drinking, gambling, and whoring. This he engaged in at every given opportunity, mostly in Leadingham, though there was almost always a card game going on in the back of the warehouse.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Though at first he'd not been happy about having seven men assigned to him at the warehouse, Obadiah Hakeswill soon had reason to change his mind about the presence of Richard Sharpe and the six privates. With Sharpe around to supervise the privates doing the routine work of organizing the warehouse, Obadiah didn't have to be involved with the mind-deadening work himself.

Freed from these onerous duties, he was able to devote the bulk of his time to selling stolen goods on the black market. Even after giving the required cut to Lt Morris, the clever sergeant was still building up a tidy sum. Making money on the side was more important than ever to him now, because he knew he needed to have enough money to properly support a wife and, hopefully, children.

And, best of all, he would now have more time to visit Jane, though he'd not had much opportunity yet, as he'd been kept busy devising an efficient, clandestine system for disposing of the stolen goods. But, finally, one afternoon about a week after Sharpe had first reported for duty, Hakeswill had finished his business for the day early and decided to stop by and see Jane on his way back to camp.

But as he headed back into Leadingham on the road on the opposite side of town from the camp, he met Jane headed out of Leadingham,carrying several awkward looking bundles.

"Here, let me help you with them things," Obadiah said, after crossing the road to meet her. "Where are you going with all of that and no one to help you carry it? You shouldn't be out here all by yourself struggling with this load. Your Da should have sent one of the lads what helps him in the shop to deliver this stuff, he ought to have."

Gratefully allowing him to take the packages from her, she explained, "We're so busy at the shop lately that my father couldn't have spared anyone to go. We're also missing one man, who broke his leg three days ago. And, in any instance, all these things are for my widowed aunt, so it was important for me to go."

"I understand," he replied. "But I'll be takin' it the rest of the way. You just needs to show me how to get there."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to put you to any bother," she said. "Surely, you have better things to do than this."

"No bother at all, it ain't, missy," he assured her, twitching briefly. "It's my pleasure. I can't think of nothing else I'd rather be doing right now, neither."

"If you're quite sure it's not keeping you from your duties, then I accept," Jane told him. "It is rather disagreeable having to walk so far with such cumbersome packages." After a beat, she hastily added, "Not that I don't want to help my aunt, of course."

As they walked along, he asked, "Is this your father's sister or your mother's?"

"Neither," she replied. "She's my father's aunt, so she's really my great-aunt. She's rather elderly and somewhat of an invalid, so we visit her often and see to her needs." With an audible sigh, she added, "It would be so much easier for all concerned to take her into our home, but she won't hear of it. She insists on remaining in her own home, with just a maid for companionship."

"Maybe she just likes her privacy, is all," Obadiah speculated.

"I suppose you're right," she admitted. "But it was easier to look after her when my mother was alive. But I do have my two sisters to help me with her."

"I didn't have no brothers or sisters as a lad," he told her. "No father, neither. It was always just me and my mother 'til she died. Had me an uncle, too, but he didn't look out for me like he ought to have after she died, so's I joined the army when I was twelve."

"Oh, my," she exclaimed. "That's awfully young."

"That it was," he agreed. "But I joined as a drummer boy, which ain't as dangerous as being a regular private soldier. I had to wait two years 'fore they would let me be a real soldier." Chuckling, he added, "And the army gave me food, clothing, and a place to sleep. It's been my family all this time, see?"

"I understand."

At that moment, they reached a path leading into the woods. Pointing, Jane said, "She lives down there."

Obadiah told Jane about the places he'd seen since joining the army as they made their way down the dirt road to their destination.

"Well, you've certainly seen a lot," she remarked. "I'm afraid my life has been deadly dull compared to yours. I've lived in Leadingham my entire life and have never been more than twenty miles from home."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that," he assured her. "At least you have you a family what cares for you."

Jane did not comment, but she gave Obadiah a brief sympathetic glance, noticing for the first time a sadness in his eyes.

Clearing his throat, Obadiah changed the subject. "So, how old are your sisters. I ain't never seen them when I come to the shop."

"Abby is sixteen and Sarah is fifteen," she replied. "Abby works in the shop sometimes; you've just not come at the right time to see her, I suppose. And Sarah stays home and keeps house."

"I see," he said, twitching briefly. "So, you're the oldest, then. I hope they minds you and does what you tell 'em."

Laughing merrily, she said, "I'm afraid not. They are much happier when they're bickering, with each other and with me."

"I suppose there's something to be said for bein' an only child, then, eh?"

She smiled at him, then both laughed, enjoying each other's company. By the time they reached her aunt's cottage about a half hour later, they were chatting as if they'd known one another since childhood. Later on, after he'd parted from Jane back at the shop, having insisted upon escorting her home, Obadiah was well satisfied that they'd made significant progress in getting to know one another. Still, he was not quite ready to make his intentions toward her clear, hoping she'd realize it on her own.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A few days later, Richard Sharpe and a couple of fellow corporals went into Leadingham to have a few pints at the pub. He and the privates had finished organizing the warehouse that day, and Hakeswill, in an uncommonly charitable move, had let them off duty at lunch time, so Sharpe was in a mood to celebrate. It had been raining on and off during most of the day, but he didn't care, as he'd lived through much worse conditions while on the continent.

Lurching home later, after having several pints and flirting with the barmaids, Sharpe noticed a comely lass around his own age carrying several loaves of bread. Idly watching her in appreciation as she made her way as carefully as possible down the muddy street, he saw her suddenly slip just before reaching a small bridge. She slid rapidly down the hill, landing in the creek.

"You lads go on," Sharpe said, already sprinting across the street. "I'll handle this one."

The other men laughed, knowing what Sharpe had on his mind, but they obligingly continued on. After all he'd seen her first.

"Are yeh all right, lass?" Sharpe said as he slid down the hill, barely missing falling in himself. "Here, let me help you up."

"Quite all right, thank you," she said, blushing as she took his hand. "It was silly of me to fall, considering how many times I've walked down this street. Careless of me, really."

"Not so silly," Sharpe assured her. "It was raining pretty hard just a bit ago and them shoes you're wearing ain't exactly fit for walking on wet grass and in mud."

"Right you are," she agreed.

As they reached the top of the hill, she slipped again, almost falling, and Sharpe reached out a hand to steady her, putting it around her waist. Lingering a moment longer than was necessary to ensure her sure footing, he gazed down to see her sky blue eyes looking up at him, still blushing fiercely.

He smiled broadly at her, confident that her blush meant that she was attracted to him.

"Name's Dick Sharpe," he said smoothly, introducing himself. "I've not been back long from fighting the Frogs".

"Jane Cutler," she replied. "I'm pleased to meet you." After a pause, she added, "My father runs the cobbler shop".

Noticing that she was shivering in her wet gown, he took off his jacket, and said, "Here, put this on. You're all wet and I don't want you to get a cold." When she did not protest, he put it over her shoulders, wrapping it securely around her.

"Oh, that feels better," she said gratefully. "I must get home and change into something dry."

"Let me see you safely home, then," Sharpe said, extending his arm for her to take. "I don't want you falling again."

"Thank you," she said, as she bent to retrieve the loaves of bread which, fortunately, had not gone down the hill with her and were still dry, wrapped up in the bag.

As they reached her door about ten minutes later, Jane slipped off Sharpe's jacket and handed it back to him. "Thank you again for the lend of your jacket. I feel much better now."

"My pleasure," he said as he put it back on."Might I come see you again? I'd like to get to know you better."

Smiling up at the handsome corporal, she murmured, "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"How about tomorrow afternoon," he proposed.

"Tomorrow is fine," she said softly, still holding his gaze. "I'll pack us a late lunch and we can have a picnic after taking a walk."

"Tomorrow it is, then."

Jane sighed as she watched Richard Sharpe saunter away, thinking him the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

"

"


	9. Sharpe's Seduction

Jane Cutler slept late the next morning, as was her usual habit on the days she did not work in the shop. She normally worked three days a week, while her sister, Abigail, worked the other three, with Sunday being a day of rest. It had been a lucky thing that Richard Sharpe's invitation had come for a day she did not have to work, so she would not have to make excuses to her father. She wasn't ready to tell her father about the handsome soldier just yet; she preferred to get to know him first before introducing him, just in case things did not work out between them.

After washing up, she donned her favourite gown, which was of a rich burgundy shade that she knew was becoming on her, if the number of compliments she typically got when wearing it was any indication. She took her time fixing her hair, then grabbed a bonnet before heading to the kitchen to pack a picnic lunch.

The young woman frowned after finding the kitchen and the rest of the house empty, as she'd meant to ask her youngest sister, Sarah, to join her and Corporal Sharpe for the sake of propriety. Jane had neglected to ask her the night before, figuring she would have had plenty of time to do it this morning.

Knowing there was nothing for it, she returned to the kitchen and assembled the meal, hoping that Sarah would return before Richard Sharpe arrived. But by the time she heard a knock at the front door, just as she finished packing everything into the basket, Sarah still had not appeared.

Sighing as she removed her apron, she went to answer the door.

"Are you ready to go?" Richard Sharpe said when she opened the door, smiling broadly as he held up a bottle of wine. "I brought us something good to drink."

"I've packed us a lunch and I'm ready to go, but my sister is not here," Jane replied hesitantly. "I had meant to ask her to come along with us as a chaperone." Her voice trailed off in indecision. "Maybe we should wait for her to return?"

Swallowing the urge to sigh in exasperation, Sharpe told her, "I'd love to meet your sister some time, but I've only got about two hours today before I have to go back to camp. I'd hate to see the food and this wine go to waste." Grinning ever wider, he wheedled, "Come on, it will be all right. You know you want to go."

"Well, I suppose it would be all right," she replied, her voice still uncertain. "And you're right, I do want to go and get to know you better."

"Come on, let's go, then," Sharpe said,extending his arm to her. "We'll have a good time. I'll be proud to have the prettiest girl in Leadingham on my arm."

Jane blushed crimson but did not say anything, as she wasn't used to that sort of flattery.

"So. Where do you want to go?" he asked as they left the house. "I'll leave it up to you, 'cos you know the town better than I do."

Leading him to a path near the edge of the woods rather than to the road, she said, "There's a lovely meadow near a small creek where my sisters and I used to go to play when we were little. My mother would come with us sometimes and we'd eat lunch there. It's ever so quiet and peaceful; a nice place to talk."

"Sounds like the perfect spot," he said. "Lead on!"

She led him down a well-worn path through the woods. Though the path was obviously well-travelled, they did not meet anyone along the way, much to Sharpe's satisfaction. He wanted this comely lass all to himself.

After about a fifteen minute walk, they reached a grassy clearing with a babbling brook on the opposite end of the meadow. Pointing to a shaded spot under a tree near the creek bank, Jane asked, "How about right here?"

"Fine with me," Sharpe said agreeably.

After spreading a blanket she'd brought along on the grass, Jane set the basket down before settling herself on the blanket as Sharpe joined her. She pulled out two pewter mugs from the basket, handing them to him. "Why don't you fill our mugs with that wine while I set the food out."

As he did so, she brought out some leftover chicken, bread, and cheese, wrapped in linen cloth.

"Looks good and I'm hungry," the young corporal said, reaching for a piece of chicken. "I skipped lunch back in camp, knowing I'd be eating with you. Did you make it?"

"I'm afraid I can't take credit for it," she said modestly. "My youngest sister does most of the cooking with some help from a woman who comes in a few days a week to help her with that and the housekeeping."

"No matter," Sharpe told her. "I didn't come for the food, anyway. I came to spend time with a pretty lass".

"So, Richard," Jane said some time later, after finishing a piece of chicken. "Where are you from and how long have you been in the army?"

"London," he replied. "Born and grew up there. Been in the army two years now."

"What's London like?" she asked. "I've always wanted to go there. It must be better than living in boring, old Leadingham."

"It's dirty, smelly, and crowded, if you really want to know," he told her, chuckling at her naivete. "It's not so bad for the rich buggers, but I didn't know nothin' about none of that. I grew up on the streets, 'cos my mother died when I was a wee lad and I never did know my Da." He took a bite of chicken, then added, "I lived in an orphanage."

"How dreadful," she said, frowning, thinking of how Obadiah had told her a rather similar story about his life before joining the army. Not for the first time, she felt lucky to have had both her parents for most of her childhood. "I suppose there's something to be said for growing up in a small town, after all."

"Too right you are." Sharpe took her mug from her, refilling it to the brim. Jane had become more talkative with the more wine she drank, and did not notice that this was her second refill.

"Mmm, this wine makes me feel tingly all over," Jane remarked, shivering with delight. "I didn't think it tasted all that good when I first tried it, but the more I drink, the more I like it."

"That's the way it is with wine," Sharpe said, grinning to see the young woman loosening up. After a moment, he reached up to touch one of her curls that had slipped out from under her bonnet. "Your hair sparkles like gold when the sun shines on it. You shouldn't keep hair so beautiful hidden under a bonnet."

Blushing, she shyly removed the bonnet, putting it on the blanket beside her. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he told her as he reached up with both hands to remove the pins from her hair. "There, that's better."

Leaning over, he kissed her once gently, then more ardently when she did not resist, wrapping his arms around her.

As the couple continued to kiss for the next few minutes, Jane knew she shouldn't allow the handsome soldier to take such liberties with her, but she was dizzy, her head muddled from all the wine she'd imbibed, so she was unable to muster enough resistance to tell him to stop. It felt good, so the young woman felt the last of her resistance crumbling as she gave herself over to the new and wonderful sensations.

It was such that she barely noticed when Richard Sharpe unfastened her bodice and loosened her stays to caress her bare breasts a few minutes later. Still in an alcohol-fueled daze, she complied without question when he lifted her skirts and eased her back into a reclining position on the blanket not long after that.

She briefly returned to her senses, her eyes widening in shock, when she felt the sharp pain of her maidenhead tearing shortly thereafter, but Sharpe's mouth covered hers, muffling any protests she might have given. Thankfully, the pain soon subsided, to be replaced with more pleasant feelings that soon carried her off on a rising tide of pleasure.

After feeling a warm, liquid sensation between her legs a few minutes later, she was vaguely disappointed when Sharpe rolled off her' feeling as if there should have been something more that she'd missed. As Sharpe rose from the blanket and set his breeches back to rights, Jane remained sprawled on the blanket, her skirts still rucked up around her waist; with her head still in a muddle.

"Come on, Jane," Sharpe urged suddenly as he jostled her shoulder, bringing her somewhat out of the haze. "I need to get back to camp now 'fore I'm missed. Fix your clothes and let me walk you back to your house."

After he'd helped her to her feet and she'd lowered and smoothed out her skirts, she felt a sticky wetness trickling down the inside of her thigh. It was only then that the gravity of what she'd just done dawned on her. Still not quite alert, however, it was all she could do to put her hair into a messy bun, stuff it all back under her bonnet, then gather up the basket and blanket, which was now redolent with the smell of sex.

Neither Jane nor Sharpe said much on the walk back to her house, for which she was grateful. She really didn't know what to say.

"Goodbye, Richard," she somehow managed as they reached her back door.

Leaning forward to kiss her cheek, he replied softly, "Good bye, lass. I had a good time."

He left without another word, as Jane opened the door, praying that no one was around. Thankfully, she managed to get up the back stairs to her room without encountering anyone. After cleaning herself as best as she could by pouring water from a pitcher into a basin at the washstand, she climbed into bed and was asleep within minutes.


	10. Remorse and Concern

Later that afternoon, Richard Sharpe was whistling a happy tune as he entered his barracks back at camp.

"Well?" Private Archie Dennison asked. "How did it go? Did you get your itch scratched?"

"Thoroughly," was Sharpe's laconic reply, with a smirk of satisfaction on his face. "Took right good care of me, she did."

"Didn't give you no trouble about it, did she?" another private asked. "You can never be too sure of them that don't sell it."

"That's why I brought the wine," the corporal explained. "Makes 'em relax enough to just do what comes natural."

"Right you are," another corporal remarked. "Cheaper than them trulls what sells it and hardly no risk of gettin' the pox besides."

"You going to see her again?" Private Dennison asked.

"Probably not," Sharpe replied. "Her Da will be wantin' me to marry her if I start seeing her regular. There ain't no need to get myself tied down when there are so many other comely wenches around."

"Ain't that the truth," Dennison agreed, chuckling.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Jane Cutler did not sleep well that night, following her afternoon with Richard Sharpe. Her rest was erratic and fitful, with her awakening several times during the night with guilty, anxious feelings. She'd begged off from dinner, telling Abby that she was unwell when she came to the door to check on her.

Now, as she watched the sun rise from her bedroom window, she knew she couldn't bear to go to work and face people today. Especially Obadiah Hakeswill. If he happened to come into the shop that day, he'd see that something was wrong and ask her about it.

Jane wasn't ready to talk about the stupid and irresponsible thing she'd done. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to talk about it with anyone. Knowing that her Da would be disappointed with her if he knew, she was deeply ashamed of her rash behaviour. She needed this day to herself to make peace with what had happened and to move on from it.

Hearing the sounds of the rest of the household stirring, getting ready for the new day, Jane eased out of bed and threw her dressing gown on over her shift. After stuffing her feet into her bedroom slippers, she went next door to the room Abby and Sarah shared. Her younger sisters were getting dressed as she entered the room.

"Abby, I need to ask you a favour," she began hesitantly.

"What is it?" Abby asked, frowning. "Why aren't you getting dressed? You'll be late for work."

"I'm still feeling rather unwell," Jane explained. "I was wondering if you would go in and work for me today and I will take your day tomorrow. I really need to get some rest today."

Looking at her sister, Abby swallowed the sarcastic remark that first sprang to mind; one glance at the dark circles under Jane's eyes proved the truth of her words.

"All right, I'll do it," she said reluctantly. "But you owe me."

"Thanks ever so much," Jane replied. "And I said I'd work your day tomorrow. I won't go back on my promise."

"I'll bring you up some breakfast after everyone has left," Sarah piped up. "I do hope you feel better soon."

"And I hope I don't catch it," Abby told her sourly.

Turning to Sarah, Jane said, "Thank you . That's very kind of you." Shifting her attention to Abby, she said, "I don't think it's the sort of sickness you can catch, so don't worry." She yawned loudly, then said, "I'm going back to bed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /

Abigail Cutler despised working in her father's cobbler shop. She longed for the day when she could get married and be free of it forever. Jane, on the other hand, loved working there and Abby could easily see her becoming an old maid and spending the rest of her life in that shop.

Though she hated the idea of going in that day, she couldn't complain too much, as Jane rarely asked her for favours and was always helpful when she asked a favour of her.

Sighing as she entered the shop, she hoped the day would pass quickly. She'd brought along her knitting to keep herself occupied, just in case business was slow.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Early that morning, as he arrived at the warehouse to start another day, Obadiah Hakeswill heard Sharpe and his men bragging about the women they'd been with. He paid them scant attention, as he had little interest in their personal lives. As long as they did what he told them to do with a minimum of complaining, he didn't care what they did as long as they stayed out of his personal business. He'd been with one of the barmaids at the pub himself a few nights before, but this was a common enough occurrence that he didn't need to brag about it every time it happened.

As he sat at his desk having a cup of coffee a short time later, Sharpe sauntered in to get the assignments for the day.

"Mornin', Sarge," Sharpe drawled lazily. "What do you need us to be doin' today?"

"You needs to go to the tailor shop and pick up a batch of uniforms," he told the corporal. "Then you needs to sort them for distribution and storage." After pausing for a sip of coffee, he added, "Shouldn't take you too long if you all work on it, eh?"

"We'll get right on it," Sharpe replied. As he left the sergeant, he thought to himself that he might get a chance to visit the pub that afternoon if he and the privates got the job done quickly.

Hakeswill spent an hour or so doing necessary paperwork after Sharpe and the privates left to carry out his orders. His thoughts turned to Jane as he attended to the routine work, something that was happening more and more these days, and he decided to stop by the cobbler shop to see her as soon as this work was done.

Some time later, as he entered the shop, Obadiah was surprised and disappointed to see an unfamiliar young woman behind the counter. A girl, really, as she was younger than Jane.

Hearing the sound at the door, Abby looked up to see the rawboned army sergeant come in. "May I help you, Sergeant?"

Holding up a piece of paper, Obadiah explained, twitching briefly, "I got some additions to add to our shoe order here." After handing her the list, he asked, "Where is Jane? I was 'spectin' to see her here today."

"She was unwell this morning, so she decided to stay home to rest," Abby told him, immediately sensing that this ungainly, twitching soldier was interested in her sister. "She will be back tomorrow, I'm sure."

"Tell her that Obadiah done asked after her," he said, twitching again. "I hope she feels better soon."

"I will," Abby promised, rolling her eyes, having no intention of mentioning him to her sister. Jane had never mentioned this Obadiah to her before and after having met him, she could see why.

The next day, shortly before lunch time, Hakeswill headed back to Leadingham to see if Jane had returned to work. He stopped first at the market square in the middle of town, looking for some sort of gift to bring her.

As he browsed among the various vendors, trying to think of something nice to give her, he noticed a display of oranges in front of the fruit vendor's stall.

"How fresh are them oranges?" he asked the vendor.

"Just got them in last night," the vendor replied. "They're as fresh as you'll find, and they're sweet and juicy besides."

"I'll take two of 'em," Obadiah said, reaching into his pocket for the coins. Oranges cost dear, but he wanted to get something special for Jane and oranges were just the thing to help her feel better. Perhaps such a gift would even help her to realize just how much he cared about her.

As he entered the cobbler shop about ten minutes later, Obadiah was relieved to see Jane back in her usual place. Grinning widely, he called out, "There you are! I come in yesterday and you wasn't here. I done got worried when your sister told me you wasn't feeling good."

Noticing the dark circles still under her eyes, he asked, "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm still rather tired," she admitted with a shaky smile. "But it's nothing that getting sufficient rest won't take care of."

"Did your sister tell you I asked after you?" he asked.

"No," she said, frowning. "She never mentioned you at all."

"She must have done forgot," Obadiah said, twitching, not believing that for a moment. "And before I forget, I brought you something." He held up the two oranges before handing them to her. "I thought these oranges might help you feel better."

"What a thoughtful gift!" Jane exclaimed, knowing how expensive oranges were. "Thank you!"

"It was my pleasure," he told her, looking into her eyes.

At that moment, Abby entered the shop with a basket in one hand. "I've brought you lunch, I brought plenty, so I could eat with you." Noticing Obadiah Hakeswill for the first time, she scowled darkly at him.

"Just in time." Turning to Hakeswill, Jane said impulsively , "Sergeant, why don't you join us? There's plenty for all of us. The oranges you brought will make the perfect dessert."

"Don't mind if I do," he said, twitching as gave her a pleased grin. He ignored Abby, who heaved a theatrical sigh at her sister's invitation.

Though pleased by her invitation, Obadiah couldn't help but notice that Jane seemed distracted and preoccupied. He didn't read too much into it, however, figuring that she still didn't feel entirely well. Instead, he was happy that he seemed to be making progress in his campaign to court her.

When it came time for him to leave, he briefly took one of Jane's hands and squeezed it gently. "I don't know when I've enjoyed a meal more."

"It wasn't much," she demurred. "Just some leftovers."

"I ain't talking about the food, missy," he told her, twitching again. "It's the company what I enjoyed." After replacing his hat, he said, "I hope you feel better and I'll come to see you soon."

After he'd left, Abby turned to Jane and scolded, "Surely, you can do better than that."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, puzzled.

"Are you that simple?" Abby demanded, rolling her eyes. "That man is besotted with you - he's courting you."

"Surely not," Jane replied. "Obadiah is just a friend. He's very kind, but there's nothing more to it than that." Turning to glare at her sister, "And what is wrong with him, anyway? He's a very nice man."

"Do I have to tell you?" Abigail was exasperated with her clueless sister. "For one thing, he's hopelessly ugly. Second, he twitches! And, third, he's from the gutter; you can tell by the way he talks." Sighing, she continued, "I don't think I need to remind you that Da expects us to make good matches, not marry beneath our stations. Marrying a common soldier isn't my idea of a good match. The only men in the army worth marrying are officers - handsome officers."

"I won't hear you say such awful things about him," Jane said severely. "Obadiah is a good friend and he knows how to act like a gentleman, even if he wasn't born one. And he's not a common soldier; he's a sergeant."

"Obadiah, is it?" Abby shot back scornfully. "I think you like him more than you admit."

"Really, Abigail," Jane huffed. "I think you're reading much too much into what is just a simple friendship."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Abigail snapped. "If you don't cut him out of your life now, you may end up in a situation you hadn't bargained for."

"_I already have_," Jane thought to herself miserably. "_Just not with Obadiah_."

Instead, she merely said, "He's my friend and that's that. One cannot have too many friends." And Jane had a feeling she was going to need a good friend more and more in the days to come.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

_**Author's Note**: In relative terms, oranges were much more expensive to buy in England at the end of the 18th century. The cost was likely roughly comparable to buying a dozen roses today and would have indeed been viewed as a thoughtful gift._


	11. Obadiah's Solution

Over the next several weeks, Jane Cutler slowly made peace with the memory of her afternoon with Richard Sharpe. It was a regrettable day, but what was done, was done, and all the woolgathering in the world wouldn't change what happened. As time passed, she gradually thought of it less often

Corporal Sharpe never came to visit her again, for which she was grateful. It would have been most awkward to see him once more and Jane was glad that she'd never have to introduce him to her family. One time, she saw him from a distance, apparently heading for the pub and was again thankful that she was too far away for him to have easily noticed her watching him.

She did best during the day when she had her work to distract her, especially when Obadiah came to see her. He had a way about him that made her laugh and forget about her troubles, even if just for a little while.

But, alone in her bed at night, it took her much longer to stop brooding about it, with nearly two weeks passing before she got a full night's sleep.

Inevitably, however, time softened the memory and she resumed a near-normal routine.

Obadiah Hakeswill continued to visit the cobbler shop at regular see Jane. Even though she welcomed him each time and even sometimes invited him to share her lunch, from time to time he sensed that she was troubled about something. Though her friendliness toward him had not dimmed any, she often seemed preoccupied or distracted.

He did not press her about it, figuring she would tell him when she was ready..Things were going well between them and he didn't want to do anything that might upset the progress he'd made with her. He would bide his time.

As for Richard Sharpe, he quickly forgot about the young woman whose virginity he'd so casually taken. Jane Cutler had been a momentary pleasure to him, nothing more.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Three months later, Jane could no longer deny the truth she'd been trying to avoid. She was fairly certain she was with child. She'd not had her monthly courses since that day with Richard Sharpe and, now, she was nauseated nearly every morning, often getting sick in the process.

Because she wasn't completely sure, however, she kept her suspicions to herself. There was no good purpose in telling anyone, when it might just turn out to be all for never mentioned her morning sickness and took great pains to conceal her frequent vomiting from the rest of her family. Jane also made a point of frequently volunteering for laundry duty, so that her sisters would not realize that she was no longer contributing bloody sheets to the laundry. Jane knew that Abby, in particular, would be quick to run tell her father, which was something she wanted to avoid if at all possible. This was something she knew she eventually needed to do herself.

As the months rolled by and it became more obvious that she was indeed in a family way, Jane continued to bury her head in the sand trying to hide her condition from her family. She let out the seams on her gowns, hoping this would be enough to camouflage her expanding waistline, which worked for awhile.

Inevitably, though, there came a day when she could hide it no longer.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I'll be away from the shop for most of the day today," Jacob Cutler reminded his daughters at the breakfast table. Turning to his two oldest daughters, he added, "I want you both to work in the shop today. The inventory in the back room is a shambles and it will take both of you to set things back in order as quickly as possible."

Abigail suppressed the urge to sigh in exasperation, but Jane said, "We'll get it done."

"Good," her father said, smiling at her. "I know we've been busy lately, but if we let it go much longer, the job will only be that much harder." Getting up from the table, he told them, "I'll be going now, so I'll leave you girls to it. I need to have an early start if I'm going to get back home before sundown."

Three hours later, both sisters were still busily organising the back room. Jane tired quickly, as the work made her back ache. Deciding to take a short break, she clumsily eased herself up from the floor, leaning heavily on the wall for support. At the moment she awkwardly regained her feet, Abigail came around the corner in time to see Jane with her stomach thrust out for a brief moment. But it was long enough for her to see what her sister had been hiding all these months, especially considering that Jane was in front of a sunny window, which called even more attention to her protruding midsection.

Still concentrating on regaining her balance, Jane wasn't even aware of Abigail's presence until she heard the gasp. As she straightened up, her eyes fell upon her sister, standing there slack jawed in stunned surprise. Realizing that her secret was no longer one, Jane belatedly turned away from Abigail in shame.

"Oh, Jane, how could you?" Abigail said, shaking her head. "For several months I've suspected something was amiss with you, but never this." Moving around to look Jane in the eye, she continued, "And with that impossibly homely Sergeant Hakeswill, too. How could you let him do this to you? We were taught better than that!"

"It wasn't Obadiah," Jane murmured. "He's never been anything but a perfect gentleman with me."

"Who, then?" Abby demanded. "Did some ruffian attack you? Why didn't you tell someone?"

"It was another soldier," Jane told her. "And he didn't attack me. I foolishly allowed him to get me drunk and then let him ravish me."

"How very stupid of you!" Abby said. "I thought Mum taught you better than to do something so shameful. You're ruined now and it's your own fault! No doubt any potential suitors will think Sarah and I are loose, too, and we'll be shunned as well. How could you be so selfish?"

"That's enough of that talk, missy."

Both sisters turned to see Obadiah Hakeswill standing in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there," Jane asked, her face crimson with shame.

"Long enough." Turning back to Abigail, Obadiah ordered, "You. Out. I needs to talk to Jane without you stickin' your nose in where it don't belong."

Before her sister could protest, Jane said, "It's all right, Abby. Just go for now and let me talk to Obadiah for awhile."

"Fine," Abby snapped. "I'll be out front minding the shop if you need me."

After Abby had left, Obadiah took Jane's hand and led her to a chair in the back of the room by a window. He grabbed a nearby stool, then sat beside her.

"What happened, Jane?" he asked softly, twitching. "You can tell Obadiah, 'cos I won't get angry."

"How much did you hear?" she asked, turning her head away.

"All of it, missy." He took her hand gently to encourage her to confide in him.

"I'm so ashamed." Her voice was nearly inaudible. "I cannot believe how naive I was."

"Who's the miserable bugger what did this to you?" he demanded, his voice raspy with indignation. "I'll go back to camp and sort him out right quick!"

"Oh, no, you can't do that!" she pleaded. "I would be so mortified for anyone at the camp to know of my shame. And I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble for something that was my own fault." Grabbing his hand tightly, she cried, "Promise me you won't do that!"

"All right, missy, I promise," he said, willing to let it go for now. He knew she would tell him the identity of the man when she was ready. "But you needs to tell me what happened from the beginning."

After a long pause Jane cleared her throat, then began, "I met him one day as I was returning home from the bakery. It had been raining and I slipped in the mud and fell in the creek. He happened to be passing by at the time and helped me out and escorted me home." Heaving a gusty sigh, she continued, "He was quite handsome and I'm afraid I allowed that to turn my head and affect my better judgement."

"Go on," Obadiah encouraged. He was rather stung that he'd lost out yet again to a handsome face, but he kept that to himself.

"He invited me to go walking with him the next day and I accepted," she said. "I packed a lunch to take with us, intending to ask my sister Sarah to come along as a chaperone." Sighing loudly, she continued, "But Sarah had left the house early that morning before I could ask her to go with us. I should have either waited for her to return or postponed our walk, but I let him talk me into going without her. I thought it would be all right because I thought he would act like a gentleman."

"Gentleman?" Obadiah spat. "Not that lot of miscreants. Not a gentleman among them."

"After having a walk, we sat down by the water to eat our lunch," she continued. "He had a bottle of wine and I'm afraid I drank too much. One thing led to another and I ended up letting him have his way with me. I was so muddle-headed from all that wine, that by the time I thought to stop him, it was too late. I've been chiding myself about it ever since, for all the good it might have done."

Tears that she'd been struggling to hold back spilled forth then. "And now I'm ruined! I don't know what I'm going to do! I haven't even told my father yet because I know how disappointed he'll be with me."

"I take it you don't want to marry the sod what done this to you?" he asked.

"No!" she shot back, shuddering at the mere thought of being married to Richard Sharpe."Perish the thought! And I've not seen him again since that day, in any instance."

"But you needs to have a husband now to take care of you and be a proper father to your baby." Twitching nervously, he took her hand again and looked into her eyes. "Jane will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? I promise to be a good husband to you and a good father to your little 'un."

"Oh, Obadiah! That's so sweet of you, but I can't ask you to give up your freedom for me. I don't want you to marry me out of pity, nor could I ask you to raise another man's child."

"Ain't no pity about it," he told her firmly, twitching again. "Don't you know by now that I loves you? I think I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you. I knows I'm an ugly gutter bastard and not the handsome gentleman every little girl dreams of marrying one day, but I'd be a good husband and father just the same. It don't matter to me that your little 'un ain't mine, 'cos he's part of you and I'll love him for that."

"Obadiah, you dear, sweet man," Jane said, leaning forward to give him a brief peck on his bony cheek. "You're such a good friend to me and I care for you, but I don't love you the way you love me. You deserve to have a wife who loves you as much as you love her."

"I knows you don't feel the same for me as I do for you," he said quietly. "But I've got enough love for both of us and you might come to love me as time goes by. I knows you at least like and respect me and that's more than a lot of couples have."

"You're right," she said, realizing she had ruined her chances of ever getting a better offer. "And you'd be a much better husband that the one who did this to me." Taking a deep breath, she announced, "So, yes, Obadiah, I will marry you and I hope I will be the wife you deserve."

"I'm the luckiest man in the army," he said, grinning broadly. "You won't be sorry. I promises you that."

"No, Obadiah," she said quietly. "I'm the lucky one. Truly."

Leaning forward, he put his arms around Jane and kissed her for the first time. Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes.

Some time later, Jane said, "Now we'll have to tell my father. I'm not looking forward to that at all."

"It will be all right, missy," Obadiah assured her. "I'll be with you every step of the way."


	12. Making Plans

Abigail Cutler stood by the shop window waiting as she spied her father's wagon heading back into town; she could not wait to tell him of her shocking discovery. He had always favoured Jane since they'd been little girls, thinking she could do no wrong. But he was about to find out that he'd been sadly mistaken. It was time her father got a sober dose of reality.

Ever since rudely ordering her from the storeroom, Obadiah Hakeswill had been holed up back there with Jane, talking about God knows what. And whatever it was he was saying to her, Jane must have liked it or else, she would have returned to the front of the shop long ago.

Abby slipped out of the shop to meet her father when his wagon rattled into the yard beside the shop, wanting to give him the news before Jane or that odious Sergeant Hakeswill could intercept him.

Meeting him as he was climbing down from the wagon, she said "Da, I have something I need to tell you!"

"It must be something very important for you to come rushing out here," he observed. "Can't it wait until we go back inside?"

"It is most urgent," she assured him.

"All right then," he said. "You can tell me while I unhitch the horses and get them settled back in the stable."

Abigail would have preferred his undivided attention, but she nevertheless related her shocking news after her father had unhitched the horses and led them to the stable.

Jacob halted his movement for a brief moment when his second daughter dropped the bombshell that Jane was in a family way, but then resolutely continued with the rote activities involved in bedding the horses down for the night.

Giving her one severe look, he said woodenly, "Go on." When she'd finished a few moments later, he sat down heavily on a bale of hay. "Who is the father? Is it that Sergeant Hakeswill who has been sniffing around for the last several months?"

"That was my first thought, but Jane said no," Abigail said. "She says it was another soldier, but wouldn't tell me his name" After a moment, she added lamely, "I believe her."

"Where is she?" her father demanded. "I need to hear it from her."

"She's in the storeroom," Abby told him. "And Sergeant Hakeswill is with her."

A few moments later, Jane Cutler looked up to see her father in the doorway. One look at his stricken face made it apparent that Abby had already told him of her condition.

"Is what Abigail told me true?" he asked, his voice strained with emotion.. "Are you in a family way?" Before Jane could answer, his eyes fell upon Obadiah Hakeswill. Whirling on the rawboned sergeant, he demanded, "And you! Are you the one who dishonoured my daughter?"

"No, Da, it wasn't Obadiah," she said firmly. "He's been nothing but a gentleman with me." In a lower tone, she added, "And, yes, what Abby said is unfortunately true."

"Who, then?" her father demanded. "Tell me and I'll go down to that army camp right now and make him marry you, even if I have to use my musket at his back to make him do it."

"Oh, no, Da!" she cried. "I don't want to marry that man and I couldn't bear for everyone to know what happened or to see my name dragged through the mud."

"You're right," he said, wiping his brow. "But you still need a husband. Perhaps if I go down there and talk to the commanding officer. But I'll need the man's name to do that."

"If you don't mind me sayin' so, that ain't such a good idea," Hakeswill pointed out. "You've got a contract with the army and if you go 'round the camp stirring up trouble, well, there's plenty of other cobblers who wants that contract what knows to keep their mouths shut. And, from what I can see, you needs that contract to make you a good living."

"This is none of your concern. If you are not the father, then what business is it of yours?"

"Da, Sergeant Hakeswill has asked me to marry him and I've said yes," Jane said quietly.

"And why would you want to marry a woman carrying another man's bastard," Jacob said sourly. eying Hakeswill with suspicion. "What man would want to raise a child not his own get? What is the advantage for you?"

Taking Jane's hand, he faced his future father in law, twitching briefly before speaking. "I love your daughter, sir. I have for a long time, probably since I first laid eyes on her. I'd already planned on asking for her hand one day, just not so soon." After twitching again, he added, "And even though her little 'un won't be my blood, he'll be part of Jane and I'll love him for that."

Cutler turned away for long moment, staring at the setting sun outside the window. Though the twitching, uncouth Obadiah Hakeswill wasn't the man he would have wished for his firstborn daughter, he was still, nonetheless an answer to prayer. Marriage to him would save Jane from ruin and condemnation in the community, not to mention the reputation of his own business. The fact that he was a sergeant and not just a common private, was also in his favour. And he loved Jane; he had to love her if he was willing to raise another man's child, well aware she also had no dowry to speak of.

Knowing it would be for the best, Cutler turned around to face Hakeswill again. "All right, I give you permission to marry my daughter."

"You won't regret it none, sir," Hakeswill said fervently. "I love Jane and I'll be a good husband to her and a good father to her little 'un."

"I will hold you to that promise," the older man said. "I would suggest that the marriage take place as quickly as possible."

"That's what Jane and I had in mind, sir," Obadiah told him. "We can either go to the vicar's house or have him come here, so's Jane and I can be married real quiet-like. Ain't no reason for the vicar to know I ain't the father, neither."

"I agree," Cutler said. "The circumstances certainly do not call for an elaborate wedding." After a pause, he added, "Sergeant, why don't you come home with us for dinner so we can discuss the matter further."

"I 'preciates it," Hakeswill said. "I always do my best thinking over a good meal."

Some time later, after Abigail and Sarah had left the table to wash the dishes, Obadiah said, "Jane and I wants to get married first thing tomorrow. No point in waiting 'round to do it."

"I'll go see the vicar tonight and have him come here tomorrow," the older man said. "There isn't any use attracting attention by having a procession heading to the vicarage."

"Good idea," Obadiah said. "I'll wear a clean uniform tomorrow, but I won't do nothing else special, 'cos I don't plan on telling no one til Jane has the baby, so's I don't want to do nothing that will make any of those nosey buggers in camp ask me any questions. That way they won't have no idea just when we got married, so's no one will know she went to the altar in a family way."

"You're right," Cutler said. "I wouldn't have thought of that. Where do you and Jane plan to live, then, if not at camp? I don't think it's a good idea for her to continue to work in the shop, as her condition is becoming obvious."

"I was thinking I could stay with Aunt Caroline until the baby is born," Jane said. "If anyone asks where I am, we can say that she's not been feeling well and wanted a companion until she regained her health. After the baby comes, I'll move to the army camp with Obadiah and we'll tell people we've been married all along."

"That should work," her father said slowly, still stunned by the abrupt changes about to occur.

Rising from the table, Jane said, "If you'll both excuse me, I'm going to go to my room so Abby and Sarah can help me choose which of my gowns I should wear for my wedding." After giving Obadiah a brief squeeze on his shoulder, she slipped from the room.

Jacob Cutler waited until he heard his daughter's footsteps on the stairs, then turned to Hakeswill. "I still want to find out the name of the filthy sod who did this to Jane. He needs to be shown the error of his ways."

"So do I," Obadiah said. "Jane told me she don't want me to know his name 'cos she don't want me getting in trouble with the army. And she kind of blames herself for what happened." Twitching slightly, he continued, "But, believe you me, she'll tell me eventually when she's ready to talk about it and I promises you I'll take care of the bastard then. It may take awhile 'fore I gets the right opportunity to do it proper, but, mark my words, it _will_ be done."

Seeing the intensity in Hakeswill's blue eyes, Cutler had no doubts in his mind that he would live up to that promise.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

At eleven the next morning, Jane Cutler and Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill were married in a quiet ceremony at the bride's home, Other than the vicar, her father and two sisters were the only guests. Obadiah was resplendent in a clean uniform and the boots Jane had given him months ago, now polished to a glossy shine. And though it was a bittersweet occasion for her, Jane glowed in her favourite powder blue gown.

Immediately following the ceremony, there was a simple wedding luncheon that Abby and Sarah had prepared. At the conclusion of the meal, both of Jane's sisters went to work at the shop, while her father took the wagon to take most of her belongings to her aunt's home and to explain the situation to the older woman. Jane wouldn't leave until the next morning, so that the old woman could prepare for her arrival.

"Just you and me, alone at last, Mrs Hakeswill." Obadiah put his arms around his new wife, drawing her closer to him as they shared the sofa in the front room.

Jane stiffened slightly. She was by no means ready for intimacy with Obadiah. "Yes, we are."

"Don't worry none, missy," he said affably, immediately sensing her unease. "I don't 'spect you to perform your wifely duties now. There will be plenty of time for that once the little 'un is born and you and I have got to know each other better."

Obadiah knew he could continue to get his itches scratched from the same sources he'd been doing so from all along, before he'd ever met Jane. So, waiting a few months to bed her would not be unbearable for him.

Leaning over to give him a peck on his bony cheek, Jane said, "Thank you, Obadiah. You're so wonderfully understanding. It's certainly going to take some time to get used to the idea of being married."

"We'll have a couple of months to get better acquainted," he said. "I'll be visiting you at your aunt's every chance I get and, 'fore you know it, the baby will be here and we'll all be living together in camp. And, after awhile, we'll have us some more little 'uns."

Snuggling close as she rested her head against his shoulder, she murmured, "I'm looking forward to that." As the words left her mouth, Jane was faintly surprised to realize that she actually meant it.


	13. A Wedding Night Apart

Later that afternoon, Obadiah Hakeswill returned to camp as a married man. Though he'd only won her hand and not her heart as he had hoped, the young sergeant was confident that, given time, he would eventually win Jane's love.

As he made his way past a large group of enlisted men, he gave hard scrutiny to several likely candidates, wondering which of them had been the filthy sod who had taken advantage of his Jane. Normally, he didn't care how many women the other men rogered or how they went about it, considering he did the same thing himself. Since joining the army, most of the women Obadiah had been with had been for one time only, after which he never saw them again.

But this was different. It was Jane, the woman he loved. He'd do anything necessary to defend her; even kill for her if that's what it took.

As he entered the warehouse a short time later, he found Richard Sharpe and the privates not doing much of anything. The warehouse was clean and in order, so he did not comment about their idleness.

Sharpe stood as soon as Hakeswill came through the door. "Sarge! Where have you been? There's a whole lot of requisition forms for you to sign."

"Never you mind where I've been," the sergeant replied irritably, twitching briefly. "Don't you worry none about them requisition forms, neither. Them's my problem, they are." Looking at the entire group, he continued, "'Sides, work's done for the day, so's I need you lot of miscreants to bugger off and leave me be."

"Right away, Sarge," Sharpe said briskly, already moving for the door. He didn't need to be told twice.

After Sharpe and the privates had left, Obadiah attended to the paperwork on his desk, feeling a bit melancholy that he could not spend his wedding night with his bride. Twitching briefly, he did his best to put that out of his mind for the time being, knowing it was important to keep their marriage a secret for the time being.

Hakeswill lingered for awhile in the warehouse after finishing with the requisition forms, not in the mood to engage in the usual banter with the other sergeants in his barracks. He stood looking out the window that faced the northern gate across the parade ground in the direction of Jane and Leadingham.

As he wondered how his new wife was spending their wedding night, he thought of his long departed mother, missing her yet again, and wished that she could have lived long enough to see her only son married. Despite all the years that had passed since his mother's death, he'd never stopped missing her. But now that he had a wife to love, he hoped that the pain of missing his mother would no longer be so acute.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Jane Hakeswill slowly walked through all the rooms of her childhood home, wordlessly saying goodbye to the only life she'd ever known, after Obadiah had reluctantly left to return to his duties in camp. He'd not wanted to leave her on their wedding night, but he had to if their marriage was going to be kept secret.

The young bride stood at her bedroom window idly looking out at the street below as she waited for her father and sisters to return for the evening. Alone with her thoughts at last, she was finally able to contemplate the reality of the events of the last couple of days. As she maintained her vigil, her eyes fell on the hairbrush that sat on top of her chest of drawers, which had belonged to her mother.

Jane's composure melted away at the sight of the familiar object as she began weeping silently. Her wedding was nothing like how she'd always hoped it would be; she was married to a man she was not in love with and on top of that, she would be spending her wedding night alone in her bed. Worst of all, her mother had not been here to see her married. But, on second thought, perhaps it was better that her mother hadn't had to endure the shameful circumstances that had prompted this hasty wedding.

Nevertheless, she was determined to make the best of it, knowing that it was the only practical solution possible to this bad situation; things could have turned out much worse. But right now, before anyone returned home, she felt exceedingly sorry for herself.

Later that evening, the three sisters gathered together in Jane's room to spend one last evening together. Jane was grateful for their company, as it would provide a distraction from thinking about her situation, even if just for one night.

"It's going to be hard to refer to you as Jane Hakeswill from now on," Abby said, rolling her eyes. "I can't say as I'll ever get used to _that_." She'd spent most of the evening bringing her belongings into the room, as she planned to take it over once Jane had moved out, so that she and Sarah could each have their own rooms.

"Abby!" Sarah chided. "Couldn't you wait until tomorrow after Jane leaves to start moving in here?"

"It's all right, Sarah," Jane said, twisting the heavy gold wedding band Obadiah had placed on her finger earlier that day. "I don't mind. After all, the sooner she gets it done, the sooner you each will have your own rooms."

"It won't be the same around here without you, Jane," Sarah said mournfully. "I'll be ever so lonesome sleeping in a bedroom all by myself, even if Abby is bossy."

"I won't be far away." Jane patted her youngest sister on the arm. "And soon you'll be an aunt! I know how much you love babies." After a pause, she belatedly added, "And you've gained a brother in law as well."

"Some brother in law," Abigail snorted.

"I like Obadiah," Sarah insisted. "He's always been nice the few times I've met him."

"I think I'd rather be ruined than have to marry such a homely and completely _unsuitable_ man," Abby sniffed. "Of course, _I _would have never put myself in such a predicament in the first place."

"Must you always be so uncharitable?" Jane asked, sighing wearily. "Just for once, can't you be happy for me?"

"Don't pay her any mind," Sarah said. "It's just sour grapes."

"I just wanted better for you, is all," Abby said, turning away to look out the window. "Don't you remember the grand weddings we used to plan when we were little girls?"

"We must deal with life how it is, not how we wish it would be," Jane reminded her. "It won't be so bad. I respect Obadiah and I like being with him and he loves me. There aren't many men who would be willing to marry a woman carrying another man's child." Giving her sister a stern glance, she added, "I know this isn't an ideal marriage, but it will go much better if I have the support of everyone in my family."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sergeant Hakeswill wasn't able to get away from camp the next day until well after the noon hour. He hadn't mentioned his wedding to anyone, but went about his duties as if it was an ordinary day. But as soon as he could slip away without attracting attention, he headed to Jane's new lodgings at her aunt's home. He wouldn't be able to rest easy until he saw she was settled in comfortably.

He stopped in Leadingham on the way to her aunt's house to get Jane a couple more oranges, figuring they would be good for her and a nice treat besides. As he continued on his way, his mind was in planning mode, thinking of all the things he'd need to get for the baby soon to arrive and items he and Jane would need to set up housekeeping together as man and wife.

A pale young woman, wearing an apron over her modest gown, appeared when he knocked at the door to the secluded cottage some time later.

"You must be Sergeant Hakeswill," the woman said timidly. "Miss Jane has been 'spectin' you." Remaining in the doorway, she did not move aside to let Obadiah pass.

"Step aside and let the man in, Sally," came an impatient voice from inside the cottage.

Jumping out the way, Sally muttered, "Beggin' your pardon..."

Obadiah stepped inside to see a frail looking elderly woman sitting in a comfortable chair by the fireplace.

"Come closer, young man," the old woman said. "I want to see the man who married my niece, but I don't see as well as I used to."

"Sergeant Obadiah Hakeswill, at your service, Mrs Cutler." He stood by the fire so she could see him better.

"Do call me Aunt Caroline," she insisted. "You are family now." Clearing her throat, she added, "And you had best treat my great-niece well, or else you will have me to answer to."

"I loves Jane," Obadiah assured her. "Nothing for you to worry about, there ain't."

The old woman harrumphed, then gave him a brief smile. "Go on with you, then. Jane is out back in the garden waiting for you. Don't stay out there too long, because Sally will have dinner ready soon. You must stay and eat with us; I won't take no for an answer."

Obadiah found Jane sitting on a wooden bench, looking pensive and preoccupied, as he stepped into the garden a couple of moments later. She was so deep in thought that she did not notice her new husband until he'd put a gentle hand on her shoulder from behind.

"Obadiah." She reached up to pat his hand, still resting on her shoulder. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming today."

"Couldn't get away 'fore this, missy," he told her. "Lt. Morris kept me busy all morning at the warehouse, so's I couldn't leave without him asking me all sorts of nosey questions." Reaching into his haversack, he pulled out the oranges and handed them to her. "Thought you'd like some more oranges. But I wants you to keep 'em for yourself, 'cos you needs to keep up your strength for the baby."

"I promise to eat them myself," she said, smiling. "Thank you."

"Nothin' too good for my wife." He took a seat beside her on the bench. "When did you get here?"

"Da brought me out early this morning on his way to make some deliveries. I'm afraid it's going to be frightfully boring here. My sisters and I had disagreements all the time but, oddly enough, I already miss their company."

"You won't be here that long," he reminded her, twitching briefly. "I'll try to come out here every day to see you. You can spend time sewing clothes for the baby and making lists of things we needs to get to set up housekeeping together after the baby is born."

"You're right," she said. "I'll have plenty to keep me busy."

"And you'll be busier yet, once the baby comes. You ought to enjoy restin' while you can."

Obadiah took her hand a moment later, after which the newlywed couple went inside for dinner.


	14. Jane's Revelation

Over the next several weeks, Obadiah and Jane spent many hours slowly becoming better acquainted. He visited her at her aunt's home nearly every day, though he was occasionally unable to get away because of his duties or inability to slip away unnoticed.

Though they spent some time visiting with Jane's aunt and sharing meals with her, the newlywed couple spent most of their time together alone; taking walks, sitting out in the garden, and many times lying together on Jane's bed, talking as Obadiah held his young wife in his arms. It took all the self-control he could muster not to claim his husbandly rights at those times and consummate their relationship. On the days he spent time cuddling with her in bed, the young sergeant always had to stop in town on his way back to camp to have one of the tavern doxies scratch his itch and give him some relief from his desire for Jane.

The several weeks after their wedding, leading up to the baby's birth, turned out to be the happiest that Obadiah had ever known in his life.

Jane spent most of her time away from Obadiah making baby clothes with the help of her aunt. They also made bed linens, knitted scarves and gloves, and made a few pillows and blankets. Her sisters made occasional visits, mostly to share the town gossip, though they also sometimes helped with the sewing. Her father came once a week to share Sunday dinner, with Obadiah nearly always in attendance as well.

A midwife had been engaged and the woman came to check on Jane a few times, advising her to rest more as the time drew nearer for the baby's birth.

At camp, Obadiah continued with his usual duties and activities, with no one being any the wiser about his recent marriage. He, too, was busy gathering things to set up a household with Jane after the baby's birth, and had looked at some billets near the camp for them to move into together. To facilitate this, he devoted more time to stealing and black market activities, trying to make as much money as possible before the baby was born.

As for Richard Sharpe, his life remained much as it had since he'd arrived back in England. He'd completely forgotten about the cobbler's daughter whom he'd deflowered and was entirely oblivious to the upheaval he'd left in his wake and of how he'd permanently changed her life. The young corporal continued with the easy warehouse duty, spending his off-duty time drinking, gambling, and whoring, as usual.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Early one morning, about two weeks before the baby was due, Jane rose early, having been unable to sleep for most of the previous night. Her back had been bothering her and she'd not been able to find a comfortable enough position that would have allowed her to get some rest, despite much tossing and turning. Finally, as she saw the first tendrils of dawn lightening the darkness, she gave up trying to sleep.

Throwing her dressing gown on over her shift, then stuffing her feet into her bedroom slippers, she gingerly made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She found Sally already up and building the fire in the hearth as she shuffled into the room.

"You're up awfully early, Mrs Hakeswill," the servant said as Jane entered the kitchen. "I've not even got breakfast started yet."

"That's all right," Jane replied, easing her heavily pregnant bulk into a chair. "I'm not particularly hungry, but I'd dearly love a cup of tea, if it isn't too much trouble."

"I'll get you a cup right away, 'fore I do anything else," Sally told her. "Now that the hearth is warming up, it shouldn't take long to boil some water."

After Jane had finished two cups of tea and some leftover biscuits Sally had found, she was still feeling vaguely out of sorts, and decided to go back to bed to see if she could get at least a few hours of rest, after telling Sally to let her aunt know she'd not be down for breakfast.

She was awakened from a fitful slumber a few hours later by a hesitant tapping at her door.

"Jane, are you awake?" a soft voice called. "It's Sarah and I've come to have lunch with you."

There was an extended pause while Jane's sleep fogged mind interpreted the sound that had awakened her.

"Come in," Jane finally croaked, easing herself to a sitting position.

"Are you all right?" Sarah asked as she came into the room. "I've been here for quite awhile, but I let you sleep as long as I could."

Frowning briefly, Jane replied, "I don't feel quite right, but I can't say that I feel exactly unwell. I can't quite explain it."

"Eating lunch will make you feel better, I'm sure," Sarah pointed out.

"Perhaps." Jane wasn't so sure of that. She'd been having intermittent stomach cramps and did not believe food would cure the problem. Turning to her sister, she asked, "Is Obadiah here?"

"I haven't seen him," her sister replied. "Maybe he'll come by soon."

"I hope so." She rose clumsily from the bed to dress, choosing an old, but comfortable gown.

Some time later, after the two sisters and their aunt finished lunch, Jane still did not feel better. In fact, she felt worse, with her stomach pains increasing. Her sister and aunt, however, remained oblivious to her level of distress until she nearly doubled over when the pains hit her again at the dinner table.

Sarah jumped up, startled, but Aunt Caroline calmly said, "How long have those pains been going on, Jane?"

"Since last night." Exhaling heavily, she added, "I didn't want to worry anyone I thought the pains would pass."

"I'll send Sally to fetch the midwife right away," Aunt Caroline said, her tone of voice inviting no dissension. "She will be able to tell you if it's your time."

"What about Obadiah?" Jane asked. "Shouldn't he be notified as well?"

"Let us see what the midwife says first," her aunt said. "You're not due for nearly two weeks, so it's a good idea to make sure the baby is really coming before we send for him. And, in any instance, first babies usually take quite awhile to make their appearance."

Sally left for the midwife's cottage a short time later, leaving Jane and her two female relatives in the front room to wait.

Jane began pacing as she waited for Sally to return with the midwife, moving from the door to the window and back again, worried that it was too early for the baby to come.

"Sit down, Jane," her aunt said. "You're going to wear a hole in the rug."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help but fret about it." Before she could return to her seat, she suddenly stopped her pacing, her eyes wide in shock.

"What is it, dear?" the older woman said, seeing her distress.

"I-I'm all wet!" she wailed, stepping aside quickly to show that the back of her gown had been soaked as well as the rug below her.

"Oh, dear," her aunt said fretfully. "I'm afraid that means the baby _is_ coming now." Turning to Sarah, who was nervously twisting her handkerchief, she said, "You'd best go for Sergeant Hakeswill right away, after we help get Jane settled in bed."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A short time later, Sarah was hurrying through the woods, taking a shortcut to get to the army camp. She did not go home to tell Abby and her father, as her aunt had told her that she would send Sally out again once she returned from getting the midwife.

By the time Sarah reached the camp, she was sweaty and somewhat disheveled. Pausing for a moment to lean against a tree to catch her breath, she approached the sentry on guard, who regarded her with bored curiosity.

"I need to see Sergeant Hakeswill," she explained to the sentry a moment later. "I have a message for him."

Raising an eyebrow at the girl, wondering what her connection was to the irascible sergeant, he called out to a passing private and said, "Saunders, go get Sergeant Hakeswill from the warehouse and tell him there's someone here to see him."

It didn't take long for Obadiah to appear after the private had gone to find him. After getting the message, he'd dropped what he'd been doing and made all haste to get to the gate, knowing that no one from Jane's family would come looking for him at the camp unless it was of the utmost urgency.

After taking her aside, far away enough so that the sentry could not hear their conversation, he demanded, "What's wrong, missy? Is Jane all right?"

Keeping her voice low, she replied, "It's the baby - it's coming!"

"She ain't supposed to have that baby for another two weeks yet!" he said, twitching nervously.

"Nevertheless, it's coming now," Sarah said. "Aunt Caroline sent for the midwife."

"You wait here," he told her. "I needs to let Lt. Morris know I might be away from camp for a couple of days, see?" Hakeswill had previously told Morris that his black market dealings might need to occasionally take him away from camp for a few days, so that he could be with Jane when the baby was born without attracting unwanted attention from his superiors.

He reappeared moments later, with his haversack slung across his shoulder. "Let's go, missy."

Sarah had trouble keeping up with Obadiah's loping stride, but the two arrived together at the cottage with little conversation having passed between them.

Aunt Caroline was waiting for them as they came through the door. "The midwife is up there with her now, checking her progress," she reported. "She should be finished soon, then you can go in to see her." After a pause, she added, "I sent Sally back out for Jane's father and Abby."

Moments later, the midwife came down the stairs to give her report. "It's going to be quite awhile. The baby hasn't turned into the right position for birth yet, so we'll have to wait for that to happen." She did not mention that Jane was small and narrow, which would mean a difficult childbirth in any instance.

As the midwife continued to talk with the women, Obadiah climbed the stairs to see his wife, finding her propped up in bed as he came through the door.

"Obadiah. You're here." She gave him a wan smile, as she patted the side of the bed for him to sit by her.

"Wouldn't be anywhere else right now, missy," he said, twitching, as he sat and took her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm frightened," she admitted. "The baby shouldn't be coming this early."

"Babies sometimes come a bit early," he told her. "I've done seen it happen with some of the army wives. There shouldn't be no problem with it being early."

"I hope you're right." She wasn't convinced, however.

"Can't wait 'til the baby is here and we can move in together," he said changing the subject. "I think I done found us a good billet. By the time you're ready to move, the place should be ready for us."

Before she could reply, a tight grimace contorted Jane's face as she nearly doubled over in pain, as she hissed in agony.

Obadiah didn't know what to say, so he leaned over and rubbed her back, hoping that would help some.

"That was a bad one," she said after the pain had passed. "They weren't so bad or so frequent when they first began last night, but it's been getting worse as time goes by."

"Probably means the little 'un will be here soon, it does," he told her, twitching briefly.

But he was wrong. Obadiah spent hour after hour by his wife's side, with her coming no nearer to giving birth than she'd been when he'd first arrived. They spent the time talking between labour pains and midwife examinations, mostly about their plans for the future. He did the best he could to distract Jane from her travail, but it became clear to him as the time passed that she was being worn down by her ordeal. He fell asleep several times in the chair by her bed, but was always awakened when a pain would hit, when she'd moan and rock the bed back and forth.

In the pre-dawn hours, after she'd been in labour for a day and a half, she moaned, "Oh, Obadiah! I don't think I'm going to live through this. I know I can't go on much longer."

"Don't say that, Jane," Obadiah said, desperately clutching her sweaty hand. "We got us a life to live together ahead of us."

"I need to clear my conscience, just in case the worst happens," she told him a few minutes later. "There's something I need to tell you."

"You mean you wants to tell me who took advantage of you and gave you a bellyful?" He leaned closer, not wanting to miss a word.

"You have to promise me you won't do anything that could get you in trouble."

"I been looking out for myself since I was a lad of twelve," he reminded her. "I knows how to take care of myself, don't you worry none 'bout that."

"You have to keep my father from doing something he'd later regret, too," she insisted.

"He won't; I'll make sure of that," he assured her. "I'll be the one who takes care of what needs doing, even if it takes me years to do it.".

Gulping noticeably, she raked a hand through her now nearly matted hair. Turning her face away from Obadiah, she whispered, "Sharpe. It was Richard Sharpe who did this to me."

"Sharpie!" Obadiah rasped out harshly, his voice low and ominous.

"You know him?" Jane asked timidly, Noting the expression on her husband's face, she was suddenly very glad not to be Richard Sharpe.

"I'm the one what recruited that bastard into the army," he told her, twitching in anger. "And he works for me now in the warehouse."

At that moment, the midwife, who'd been taking a nap, entered the room to check on Jane's progress, ending any further discussion of Richard Sharpe.

"


	15. Hakeswill's Enemy

After being shooed out of Jane's bedroom by the midwife, Obadiah went downstairs with her announcement still ringing through his head.

"_Sharpie!"_ Obadiah thought indignantly as he was descending the staircase. _"That misbegotten miserable son of a whore!_"

The more he thought about it, the less he was surprised. The young corporal was always bragging about all the women he'd been with. Obadiah even remembered one time overhearing him and the privates talking in the warehouse and Sharpe mentioning a town girl he'd bedded. He hadn't paid much attention to Sharpe at the time, but now he realized that the corporal must have been talking about Jane, as the time frame was about right.

And though he was determined to take revenge on the younger man, Obadiah couldn't help but recognize that if not for Richard Sharpe, he probably would never have had a chance to marry Jane.

As he entered the sitting room downstairs, unshaven and haggard from a night without sleep, Jane's relatives looked up at him expectantly.

"How is she?" Jane's father asked. "Is she any closer to it?"

"Ain't nothing changed," Obadiah said, twitching, his voice raspy with fatigue. "Jane is still struggling with that little 'un and she's worn out. Havin' a hard time of it, she is." He didn't mention her confession about Richard Sharpe, as there would be plenty of time to talk about that later. Now wasn't the time, nor the place.

"May we go up and see her?" Sarah asked after exchanging a worried glance with Abby.

"Go on up," Obadiah said. "Midwife is lookin' her over again, That's female business, so's it should be all right for you two to go in."

After the two sisters had disappeared up the stairs, Obadiah wearily took a seat on the sofa by his father-in-law.

"My wife didn't have near this much trouble birthing our three girls," Jacob Cutler told Hakeswill, "I'm worried about Jane."

Obadiah was worried, too, but he did not voice his concern out loud. "I don't have no experience with this sort of thing, but I expects that every woman is different."

"You're right, of course," the older man said. "But I can't help but worry."

"It's in God's hands," Aunt Caroline said. "All we can do now is pray and hope the midwife can help her."

As they continued to wait for the midwife's report, Obadiah fell asleep on the sofa and began to snore lightly, as he'd not had much rest to speak of since Sarah had come to fetch him from the camp.

He was awakened a short time later when the midwife returned to make her report. The woman waited for a moment as Obadiah collected himself: yawning, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

"She's still having trouble," the midwife finally said, her somber expression telling the tale more than her words. "The baby was still in the wrong position, so I reached up inside her and turned it as best I could, but I'm not sure if it did enough to help."

Aunt Caroline cringed at the woman's explicit frankness, but remained silent. Jane's father and Obadiah exchanged glances, not liking what they heard.

"How much longer, then?" Obadiah asked.

"Can't say for sure," the woman replied. "But things should be moving along faster now, I'm thinking."

Rising from the sofa, Obadiah said, "I'm going back up there 'til it's time."

"I'm coming with you," Jane's father said.

Nearly an hour later, the midwife examined Jane again, then muttered to herself, "It's time" Looking at Abby and Sarah, "Both of you, stay here. I'm going to need your help." Turning her gaze to the two men, she added,"Both of you need to go and leave us women to our work."

After Jane's father had spoken a few words of encouragement to his daughter and taken his leave, Obadiah bent close to the bed and took his wife's hand. "I'll be right outside if you needs me," he said in a low voice, twitching nervously. "I love you, Jane."

"I love you, too, Obadiah," she croaked out, surprised to realize that she meant it.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he added, "I'll be back soon, I hope, and we'll have us a new little 'un to raise." He leaned closer and kissed her on the cheek before reluctantly leaving the room.

Directly outside the room in the short hallway was a window with a seat built in beneath it. Obadiah settled himself there, not wanting to be any further away from his wife than he had to be. He took out his pocketknife and began to clean his fingernails with it, just to have something to do with his hands.

His father-in-law joined him a few moments later, bringing a stool from the kitchen to sit on. Neither man said much, as both were exhausted from the long wait. They sat in companionable silence, with each man lost in his own thoughts, but exchanging worried glances when Jane's moans increased in volume.

Nearly two hours later, Jane's moans dwindled away, with the midwife appearing in the doorway shortly thereafter.

"I'm sorry," the midwife said, wearily pushing a stray hair back under her cap. "The poor, wee babe was born dead." Sighing heavily, she continued, "I did all I could, but poor Mrs Hakeswill was just in labour for too long."

"The baby," Jacob Cutler asked. "Was it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," the midwife told him. "Would you like to see her?"

"Of course I would," he said quietly. "I want to hold my first grandchild at least once."

"We'll have her cleaned up in just a moment, so you can hold her," the woman promised.

"My wife," Obadiah asked, twitching in agitation as he staggered to his feet. "Is she all right? Can I see her now?"

"She's exhausted and she's lost a lot of blood and is still losing it," the midwife said. "She's likely not long for this world." Opening the door wider, she added, "You'd best come in and say your goodbyes."

With a heavy heart, Obadiah went in to see Jane, with her father at his heels. An exhausted Jane looked up at them with sad eyes, with the baby by her side in the bed.

"Obadiah." She reached up weakly for his hand. Her complexion was now chalk white, with dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm here, Jane," he said, pulling a chair to her bedside, while her father went to stand on the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as he leaned close.

"For what, missy?: he replied, bewildered. "You ain't done nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm sorry I wasn't the kind of wife you wanted," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry I won't get the chance to be."

"Jane," he assured her. "This little bit of time we've been married has been the happiest time of my life, see? There ain't no need to apologize for nothing. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." He bent and kissed her cheek, which elicited a wan smile from her.

"I know we would have been happy together," she said, Turning to look at her father and sisters on the other side of the bed, she said, "Da, I'm sorry for all the trouble I've put you through. And Abby and Sarah, take care of Da when I'm gone, would you?"

"You're my daughter,' her father said thickly. "How could you be any trouble?" After Abby and Sarah had echoed similar sentiments, Jane turned her attention back to Obadiah, who was still holding her hand.

"Remember me, Obadiah," Jane murmured. "And thank you for everything."

"I'll never forget you,' he said fervently, twitching in agitation. "I'll always love you and carry you in my heart forever."

With one last, loving look at him and her family, Jane Cutler Hakeswill quietly breathed her last, her hand still being held by Obadiah.

For several long minutes, he continued to hold her hand, with tears streaming down his bony face, not wanting to let her go, his heart filled with despair.

Jane's father picked up the baby, who had been wrapped in a sheet, and cradled her close in his arms, mourning the granddaughter he'd never get to know.

Obadiah spared only one glance for the baby, enough to note the blond fuzz around her head that clearly indicated who had sired her, before returning his attention to the wife with whom he'd never get to raise a family. For the second time in his young life, he'd lost the only person who cared for him.

As Jane's hand cooled in his, he could feel his heart growing colder along with it. By the time he reluctantly rose from Jane's bedside so that her body could be washed and prepared for burial, he vowed to himself that Richard Sharpe would pay dearly for what he'd done to Jane, even if it took years to completely take proper revenge on the younger man.

After promising to be there for the funeral and to help pay for it, Hakeswill left the Cutler family to their grief, wanting to be alone with his. As he was about to leave the house, he heard a clattering on the stairs and turned to find that Abby had come down after him.

Following him outside, she bluntly asked him, "You are going to take revenge on the cad who did this to my sister, aren't you?"

"You can count on it, missy," Obadiah replied grimly. "Don't you worry none about that."

Abby stood watching him until he was out of sight, wishing she'd been more accepting of him, at least for Jane's sake.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

It was shortly before dark when Obadiah returned to camp, in no mood to talk to anyone. He headed for the warehouse, where he knew he was assured of solitude at this time of day. He went to sit at his desk, still numb from Jane's death. After an interval of staring mindlessly into space, he walked through the warehouse. As he neared the back door, where the men kept their things while they worked, he spied Richard Sharpe's uniform coat hanging from a peg, where he often left it when he forgot to take it back to the barracks at night. Staring at it for a long moment, the sergeant got a sudden inspiration. He quickly returned to his desk, where he had stored an extra bayonet in a scabbard in one of the drawers. Retrieving it, he went back to where the coat hung.

After a short pause, Obadiah slipped the bayonet from its scabbard, moving with cold purpose to the coat. Lunging repeatedly, he slashed the coat over and over and over. He did not stop until it hung there in tattered shreds. Dropping the bayonet onto the table, he leaned over, putting his hands on his thighs, breathing in heaving gasps as he twitched several times in rapid succession, with tears running down his face anew.

When his breathing returned to normal, he calmly returned the bayonet to its scabbard, then replaced it in the desk drawer. Going back to the remains of the coat, he gathered up the remnants and took it out the back door. Heading straight for the jakes, he threw the tattered pieces of cloth down the hole, then dropped his breeches to empty first his bladder and then his bowels.

Hakeswill left the jakes after he was done, now feeling spent. Back in his barracks moments later, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Early the next morning, Sergeant Hakeswill was up at his usual time and headed to the warehouse right on schedule. He had not mentioned his loss to anyone in his barracks or in the sergeant's mess and had no intention of ever talking about it with anyone from the army. It was his own private business and he would bear his grief alone. No one from the army would ever know that he had ever been married.

When he entered the warehouse, Richard Sharpe was missing. "Where's Sharpie?" he asked one of the privates. "He's late."

Before the private could answer, Corporal Sharpe shambled in through the back door, coatless.

"You're late, Sharpie," Hakeswill rasped out. "Think you're the bleedin' Prince of Wales, do you, and don't have to be here on time like the rest of us, eh?" Cackling malevolently, he added, "Was you wantin' us to come to serve you breakfast in bed, was it?" Not giving him a chance to answer, he continued, "And you're out of uniform, too Where's your coat, boy?"

"I've lost it, Sarge," Sharpe told him, his tone breezy and unconcerned. "That's why I'm late; I've been out looking for it. Thought I left it here last night, but when I came in, it was gone."

"Careless with the King's property, you are," the sergeant said. "Do you think them coats grow on trees, eh? Stealing is what I calls it."

Missing the cold undercurrent of menace in Hakeswill's voice, Sharpe laughed heartily, then said, "Sure would be easier if they did, Sarge!"

Twitching angrily, Hakeswill narrowed his eyes, then said, "I needs to have me a corporal who is responsible and takes care of the King's property proper, see? And that ain't you.._.Private_ Sharpe. I've put up with your attitude long enough, so you're done here."

Sharpe stood there in slack-jawed shock, not believing what he was hearing.

Before he could respond, the angry sergeant continued, "And 'cos none of these boys here is fit to be corporal, I'm going to have to go to the trouble of looking for another one to replace you." Chortling with glee, he added, "And I've got the perfect new duty for you, too. You're on latrine duty until further notice! You'll be spendin' all your time cleanin' every jakes in the camp 'til you're an old man, see?"

"You can't _do_ that!" Sharpe exclaimed indignantly, instinctively balling his fists. "That ain't fair!"

"Want to hit me, do you, you son of a whore?" Obadiah jeered. "Go ahead and see what it gets you. I ain't seen a good flogging in a long while. Now get out of my sight and report to Sergeant Baker for latrine duty, 'fore I flogs you myself right here."

The sergeant had no intention of ever telling Sharpe what he'd done to earn his enmity. Better to let the miserable sod twist in the breeze, forever wondering, than to ever mention Jane's name to him.

Sharpe knew there wasn't anything he could do to help himself, so he left the warehouse shaking his head in confusion, having no idea what he could have done to set the irascible sergeant against him. He'd heard talk that Obadiah Hakeswill was half-mad and today's actions seemed to prove the rumours true.

As he stood by the window and watched Richard Sharpe head down the path to the latrines, Obadiah muttered to himself, "That's just the beginning, boy. If you thinks this is bad, you ain't seen nothing yet."

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Two weeks later, the 33rd Regiment of Foot was given orders to ship out for service in India. Obadiah Hakeswill was pleased when he read the roster that told him that Richard Sharpe was among the group of privates who had been placed under his direct command.

Obadiah rubbed his hands together in anticipatory glee, thinking of all the things he could do to make Richard Sharpe's life in the army a living hell. While on foreign soil, he'd have much more leeway to do so without interference from meddling officers. And although the young man did not know it yet, at the moment of Jane's death, he'd earned himself a permanent place as Hakeswill's enemy.

**END**

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_**Acknowledgments**_

I'd first like to thank Bernard Cornwell for creating the Sharpe book series and the memorable characters of Obadiah Hakeswill and Richard Sharpe. Next, I'd like to especially thank the late Pete Postlethwaite and Sean Bean for bringing Hakeswill and Sharpe to vivid life and making them such compelling characters.

Next, I'd like to thank those people who run the following websites: The Sharpe Compendium, Sharpe Pointe, Brian's Richard Sharpe Timeline, and Jane Austen's World. I'm also grateful to Richard Holmes for his book, _Redcoat,_ which was a treasure trove of facts about the British army during Obadiah's era. These sources were all quite useful when I needed to research for continuity and for matters of historical accuracy. Similarly, _The Sharpe Companion_ by Mark Adkin was most useful for information about Sharpe's early years and his first meeting with Obadiah.

Last, but not least, I'd like to thank Susan and Esther for their continued support during the writing of this story. Their comments, suggestions, and brainstorming were of invaluable help to me, especially at points where I was stuck with writer's block. I appreciate it more than either of you will ever know.


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